


without me

by yasha



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America Steve Rogers, Captain America: The First Avenger, Endgame Fix-It, Happy Ending, Hurt, Hurt Steve Rogers, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, POV Bucky Barnes, Physical Abuse, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, life story of two supersoldiers in love, mentions of peggy carter - Freeform, mentions of the howling commandos - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2019-11-12 13:55:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18012197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yasha/pseuds/yasha
Summary: Every fall and winter, when the temperatures outside dropped drastically, Bucky would worry about Steve getting sick. He’d fuss about the blonde not wearing enough warm clothes and insist that he wore Bucky’s sweaters that were at least three sizes too big for him. Steve complained, the stubborn little shit that he was, but eventually he wore the sweaters and glared at Bucky whenever he thought the brunet wasn’t looking.ora life story of two supersoldiers in love spanning from 1925 to 2017 with hurt, confusion, and misunderstandings





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> told y'all I had another fic in the works! the second chapter will be published sometime next week probably, I still have to check for any mistakes 
> 
> TW for descriptions of violence, physical abuse, and suicidal thoughts
> 
> the events take place before TFA, during, and after, as well as TWS and take a turn after 
> 
> the title and the first part of the story inspired by "without me" by halsey, the second part inspired by "I'm not here" by me+T, I'd recommend listening to the songs and reading the lyrics first to get a hang of the tone and atmosphere

_i carry your heart with me(i carry it in_  
_my heart)i am never without it(anywhere_  
_i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done_  
_by only me is your doing,my darling)_  
_i fear_  
_no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want_  
_no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)_  
_and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant_  
_and whatever a sun will always sing is you_

~

Bucky lets out a quiet, long breath as he continues staring at the ceiling. It’s been two weeks since he came to Steve for help, after being shot two times in his leg and one in his stomach, having his right shoulder dislocated, and probably having a concussion. He would be furious with himself if not for the fact that he killed all those Hydra fuckers. _All of them_. 

Bucky made a promise to himself, after saving Steve from the bottom of the Potomac, that he wouldn’t come near the blonde until he wiped Hydra off the face of the Earth. Sure, it took time. It took three long fucking years, tracing every lead he knew of and then some. When he located that last Hydra bunker facility deep down under the streets of Brooklyn, his blood boiled and he couldn’t think straight. Those fuckers had the audacity to poison his home, _his streets_. Every bullet he released, every knife he threw, and every neck he snapped caused a shiver down his spine. That was _it_. That was the last of Hydra standing and he burnt it all to the ground. Taking a hard beating was a small price to pay for looking at the empty warehouse collapse in flames. 

The last three years, however, were easy compared to the part right now. He’s finally with Steve, and yet he couldn’t be more miserable. He’s living under Steve’s roof, his little Stevie still looking at him like he could disappear any second, and yet he wants to flee just as much as he wanted to bring an end to Hydra. Bucky knows damn well he’s being ungrateful; who in their right mind wouldn’t be happy to be reunited with the love of their life, after over seventy years of torture and brainwashing? _No one_. But Bucky isn’t exactly in his right mind; he never was when it came to Steve. 

 

It all started almost a hundred years ago, when Bucky was just seven years old, starting second grade. Everyone already knew each other except for one new kid; he was short and scrawny, his clothes too big for his bony body, washed out and disheveled. He had blonde hair that kept falling behind his thick glasses and into his big, dim blue eyes. He was so small everyone assumed he should have been in kindergarten and was just waiting for the teacher to take him to the right classroom. Instead, the teacher introduced him as Steven Rogers, a new transfer from a school in a different district. The kid didn’t even raise his head as he sat in the only empty chair, pulling out his battled notebook and a single pencil. He was a hot topic that day, Bucky remembers, but no one wanted to befriend him, so the kid spent the entire day by himself. Bucky would be lying if he said he took to Steve quickly; the blonde was distanced from everyone else, always sitting alone and sketching in his only notebook when he thought no one was paying attention. Bucky however, was a cool kid; he was the biggest boy in his class and was best friends with Tom Wilkes, the coolest one there was. At recess, they would throw rocks as far as they could, challenging others to compete with them and winning every time. 

It changed one afternoon, a month or so into the semester. After classes, all the kids waited patiently for their parents to pick them up from school. Steve was the only exception, as he would hang in the day room. That one afternoon though, as they were all jumping around in front of the building, Steve came out too. Nobody paid him any attention, until a lady came and called Steve by his name. Everyone’s head snapped up as they all thought they finally saw the blonde’s mom. Imagine their surprise when one of the kids started whispering he knew the lady from his church and that she worked at a local orphanage. The news traveled fast, and before Steve could join her, all the kids were whispering about him being an orphan. 

What followed was all the kids from their class making fun of Steve; before, they knew nothing about him, but now they all picked on what was he was wearing, how he only had one notebook and one pencil. They laughed at Steve’s thick glasses and unkept hair, pushing him around and making faces behind his back. Bucky watched from the side, as, as soon as he broke the news to his parents, they told him that that was a common occurrence and he shouldn’t treat the kid any less because of that. He tried to tell Tom to cut the jokes, but his friend wouldn’t hear it. Instead, he became the worst bully. Once, during recess, he threw a rock at Steve’s direction, hitting him square in the chest. The blonde started coughing and pulled out his inhaler, and Tom ran up to him and threw the medicine out of Steve’s hand. Tom pushed the blonde, causing him to fall down, and laughed. Bucky couldn’t take this anymore and ran to them too, pushing Tom aside. He was still bigger than his friend, so he had no problem punching his arm, and kicking his leg. He yelled at Tom to leave the poor guy alone and looked for his inhaler, helping Steve up and pushing the medicine to his lips. 

*

Bucky runs a hand down his face as he sits up. The sun is shining through the window, hitting it just at the right angle and highlighting the frost on the glass. It’s sparkling and a shiver goes down Bucky’s spine as it reminds him of the times when he was put in cryo. He shakes his head to get rid of the memories, and kicks the duvet down the bed. Bucky stands up, stretching, and rolls his shoulders. His injuries and bullet holes have already healed, but his body still hurts after being in a combat mode for so long. Bucky pulls a tee over his head and ties his hair into a messy bun. He goes to the doors and stands still for a while, listening. The apartment is quiet, too quiet, so he knows Steve isn’t back yet. Whatever Avengers bullshit he went on this time is definitely taking longer than expected, as he was supposed to be back yesterday morning. 

Bucky opens the doors quietly, a habit he can’t seem to lose, and pads down to the kitchen. He puts on the coffee pot and leans again the kitchen island, waiting for it to brew. He looks around Steve’s home, their home, letting out a deep breath. The kitchen and living room are joined, and from where Bucky’s standing, he has a clear view of the grey couch, the coffee table and TV hanged on the wall opposite him. Floor to ceiling windows are on the left of the room, the frost making it hard to see Brooklyn streets covered in snow. The walls are painted light grey, a couple of Steve’s sketches hanging in black frames. There’s a picture of Sarah Rogers, as well as Bucky’s parents. Next to the TV is a big bookshelf, filled with books on many different subjects and biographies; Bucky guesses all these books were given to Steve to help him adjust to the 21st century. Cushions and blankets in different colors are on the floor in front of the windows, and Steve sometimes sinks into them with a sketchbook in his lap, drawing the view. 

Once the coffee is ready, Bucky pours himself a cup, and sits in front of the window, propping his back against the couch, and puts a blanket over his bare feet. The apartment is cold but he doesn't mind. Bucky’s used to the cold; what he’s not used to is being this comfortable, sitting on pillows, covered with blankets, without a mission he has to accomplish, without the fear of being found. He sighs, taking a sip, and putting his right hand down on the wooden floor. He knows Steve may be home any minute now, but he can’t bring himself to go stand up and go back to “his” room. Instead, Bucky allows his body to relax and sink further into the cushions, tipping his head back and breathing in the smell of fresh coffee. He closes his eyes and lets the memories play in his head.

*

Ever since the incident with Tom Wilkes, Steve and Bucky had become best friends. They would sit together all the time, Bucky sharing his lunch with Steve and teaching him how to throw rocks properly at recess. They quickly became inseparable and everyone always referred to them as ‘Steve and Bucky’ as they couldn’t be separated. Bucky’s parents made it possible for Steve to come home with Bucky after their classes and they studied together and played after, then ate diner at the Barnes’ home. Bucky’s dad always walked Steve back to the orphanage, Bucky tagging along more often than not. They grew up together and Bucky was glad to have a friend in Steve, the blonde turning out to be way more interesting than all the friends Bucky had had before. Once, during a sleepover at Bucky’s home, Steve admitted that his Pa died in the First World War, his Ma joining his husband not long after. Bucky hugged Steve for long then, letting the blonde cry into his shoulder. When the cold winter came, and Steve began to miss classes because of his weak immune system, Bucky promised himself to study even harder than before to help Steve catch up with classes. He would go to visit Steve at the orphanage, or even hospital at times, bringing his books with him. 

What Bucky remembers most though, is one cold March afternoon in fifth grade, right before his birthday. Steve missed most of the first semester due to a bad case of pneumonia and had to repeat the class. Bucky spent the entire February sulking, having to go to classes without his best friend from now on. His parents tried everything to cheer him up, but nothing worked. By then, he and Steve spent most of their time together, the blonde coming to Barnes’ house every weekend, not only after classes. It still wasn’t enough for Bucky, and his grades dropped rapidly. Then, the day before Bucky’s tenth birthday, his parents sat him down on the sofa, giving him and his little sister Becca a box of good chocolates, one they couldn’t afford on a daily basis. Bucky had thought that was his present and he tried to muster all the energy he could into his weak ‘thank you.’ His parents, however, waited till Bucky and Becca’s mouths were filled with chocolate to break the good news: Steve was moving in with them. Somehow, despite of their not so great financial situation, they managed to take custody of Steve until he was of age. Bucky remembers vividly the joy that filled him then, as he jumped around and hugged his parents so hard his mom was finding it hard to take a breath. When he asked if they were brothers now, they explained to him that no—the orphanage was just overcrowded and its supplies and resources could only suffice for a certain amount of kids. With that, and Steve spending most of the time at Bucky’s anyway, they were allowed to take custody of the blonde without actually becoming his foster parents. 

The minute Steve walked through the doors of the Barnes’ house the next day, Bucky ran to him and took the smaller man in his arms, jumping and spinning him around. Steve was so confused when Bucky started screaming they’d live together, and then they both cried from joy and decided to bake a cake for George and Winifred. The cake turned out to be a disaster, as two kids who had no experience whatsoever added too much salt and too little sugar, making it inedible. Bucky’s parents weren’t mad though; they laughed and made them promise to never bake anything again. 

Sharing a room with Steve and seeing him everyday was all young Bucky could’ve asked for. They talked about everything and nothing, often spending time in silence together, Steve sketching in his notebook, one that Winifred bought especially for his art, and Bucky exploring the world of fantasy novels. They somehow managed to squeeze another single bed in Bucky’s room, though the boys joined their beds and slept together most of the time. The first couple of nights, they both went to sleep on their separate sides, back to each other. In the morning though, they always found each other draped all over themselves, and finally one night, Bucky told Steve to quit being a baby and just move closer. He threw his arm over Steve’s smaller frame and fell asleep in a second, sighing happily as he finally had his best friend all to himself. Sure, having another kid at home wasn’t easy; they already didn’t have much, and with Steve coming to live with them, and the Great Depression making the financial situation even worse, Bucky had to compromise a lot of his favorite snacks and other goods, but he was happy to give them up. They shared everything, and when Bucky’s growth spurt hit, Steve would often wear clothes that were no longer fit for the brunet.

*

Bucky blinks, bringing himself back to the present. The sun is no longer hitting the windows and a quick look at the watch in the kitchen tells him it’s past noon already. He finishes his cup of coffee and gets up, carrying the empty cup to the sink and washing it quickly. He dries it and puts it back in the cupboard, then opens the fridge. It’s mostly empty, and the only food that’s left has already gone bad. Bucky tosses it to the garbage bin and decides to go grocery shopping, figuring Steve’ll probably be hungry once he’s back. Bucky does a mental list of things he has to buy and goes back to his room to change. He puts on some jeans and a black hoodie, then goes to the bathroom and washes his face and teeth. When he’s done, he pockets his phone and wallet, and puts on his boots and winter jacket. Bucky makes sure he has at least three knives and a gun on him just in case, then puts on a cap, pulling his hood over it. He leaves the apartment, locking the doors behind himself, and takes the stairs instead of the elevator. Outside, Bucky takes a deep breath of the cold winter air, and, keeping close to the buildings, walks a couple of blocks to a grocery store; he chooses a different one every time he goes shopping, just to be sure he’s not being followed. When he finds one he hasn’t been to before, Bucky takes a cart and strolls down the alleys. He takes everything he needs, scoffing at the prices at most cases, and goes to the fruit stand. His eyes stop at oranges and his mouth waters at the sight. Bucky can’t remember the last time he’d had an orange and he goes a little overboard with them, hoping Steve’ll like them. It was one of their favorite treats when they were young and he can’t help but think of all the winters they spent together.

*

Every fall and winter, when the temperatures outside dropped drastically, Bucky would worry about Steve getting sick. He’d fuss about the blonde not wearing enough warm clothes and insist that he wore Bucky’s sweaters that were at least three sizes too big for him. Steve complained, the stubborn little shit that he was, but eventually he wore the sweaters and glared at Bucky whenever he thought the brunet wasn’t looking. Sometimes though, even that didn’t help. Steve’s immune system was still almost non-existent, and even a common cold could made him spend two weeks in bed. One winter, when the temperatures hit an all time low, Steve was down with a bad case of pneumonia. He spent a month in a hospital and during the first week Bucky threw a tantrum every night the nurses asked him to leave and let Steve rest. After that, they let him stay on weekends and he crawled into Steve’s bed and kept him warm all night. He recalls coming to visit Steve one day after classes, only to find his friend delirious with fever. The nurses kept coming into his room and giving him medicine, but from their faces Bucky could see they gave Steve little chance of surviving the night. He ran home with tears in his eyes, and packed some of the warmest clothes he had. Winifred caught him right before he left again and went to the hospital with him, her eyes shining with worry. When they finally reached the room Steve was in, Bucky knelt by his bed, took the blonde’s hand into his and rested his cheek on their entwined fingers. Tears kept streaming down his face and Winifred, sitting in a chair beside him, kept stroking his hair gently, a soft sob escaping her throat every once in a while. That was the first time the thought of losing Steve so soon came to his head and he couldn’t subside his emotions even if he tried. He was around fifteen at that time and he finally started to understand what other people meant when they talked about love. It was so easy to him, the concept of unconditional love. He loved Steve, of course he did. Up to this point however, he always thought about the blonde as his brother. But, while clutching Steve’s hand in his, saying silent prayers and crying his heart out, for the first time he thought about loving Steve in a different way. In a way his mom loved his dad. _In a romantic way_. He asked Winifred that afternoon, her hand still stroking his hair, if it’s possible for a man to love another man the way he should love a woman. His mom smiled a sad smile then, nodding. He was confused though, as he had never seen two men loving each other like that before. Winifred explained to him, that of course it’s possible, it’s just not that common because some people don’t accept it. He asked her why, then, since it’s _love_ ; it’s not something one can change in any way. She shrugged and kissed his temple, then stood up to kiss Steve’s too, and left the two of them alone wiping at her eyes. Bucky spent another while on his knees, adoring Steve’s pale hand with soft kisses, and promising he’d never love another person the way he did the blonde. Later, he changed into the clothes he brought and crawled into the bed, pulling Steve closer to his chest and kissing his temple. 

Eventually, Steve got better, but Bucky’s realization of love for his best friend stayed with him. When all the boys in his class started getting interested in girls and asking them out, Bucky turned to his books and novels, spending his free time with Steve. The blonde was yet to hit his puberty, so he never asked Bucky why the brunet wasn’t chasing girls like all the boys in his class did. Instead, every time Bucky came to him at lunch, he gave him a blinding smile, his eyes bright. Bucky never brought up the subject either, choosing to let the girls that smiled at him down lightly. He knew he was good-looking; he was still one of the tallest boys in class, his shoulders got broad and his jaw sharper. He let his hair grew a little, so it would curl at the ends and fall onto his forehead. Bucky learned how to charm his way out of any uncomfortable situation and how to show just the right smile to get anything he wanted. Sometimes, he used that smile on Steve. Whenever the blonde wanted to do something Bucky wasn’t really feeling like at the moment, he would curl his lips slowly, letting them part just a bit, and look up from his eyelashes. Steve always sighed, unhappy. Once, Bucky could swear the blonde blushed, and it was the second happiest day of his life. 

*

After all his groceries are paid for and packed, Bucky pulls his cap low on his head and goes back to the apartment, choosing a different path. He uses the key to let himself into the building and takes the stairs, the bags heavy in his arms. On their floor, he puts the groceries down and unlocks the doors, getting inside. He looks around, but there’s still no sign of Steve; disappointment downs on him, but Bucky quickly shoves it down, as he unzips his jacket and takes off his shoes. He takes the bags to the kitchen and puts everything he bought in the fridge, leaving the oranges on the kitchen island. Bucky puts them in a bowl, taking one for himself, and peels it. He slips one slice in his mouth and almost cries as it hits his taste buds. He leans against the counter, licking his lips and savoring the taste. Bucky bounces on his feet a little, shoving another slice into his mouth, as he can’t wait for Steve to try it. He puts the remaining slices into a small bowl and goes to the living room, where he throws himself onto the couch and leans back. Bucky closes his eyes, as he lets the quiet of the apartment envelop him. He pops another slice into his mouth and the smell and taste of the orange, along with the silence that lets his mind wander, are taking him years back, making the memories explode in front of his eyes.

*

When both Steve and Bucky came of age and finished high school, they moved out, not wanting to cause Bucky’s parents any more troubles than they already had, bringing up three kids. They rented a room in a shitty complex, three blocks down from Bucky’s parents, with just one bed, a small table with a ratty chair, and an old wardrobe. The room was so small they couldn’t even breathe without the other hearing it. The floor creaked with every step and the faded-blue wallpaper was coming off near the ceiling. A small, broken mirror was hanging at a wall opposite the drafty window, and the radiator was barely working. They had a shared kitchen and bathroom that didn’t lock, but it was enough for them. It was even more than enough for Bucky, as he continued to live with his best friend that took his breath away every time he smiled. They both managed to find jobs, Bucky getting hired at the docks and Steve at a local grocery store. They could afford going to the movies every couple months or riding the Cyclone at the Coney Island. Even though Bucky hated his job, hated doing nothing but moving heavy boxes all day long, he wouldn’t have it any other way. The plus side of working there, was that he was actually developing some muscles. Every now and then, walking home from work in his battled slacks and an undershirt, his jacket thrown casually over his shoulder, he would catch a dame looking at him with a glint in her eyes. He politely nodded at them, murmuring ‘ma’am’ under his breath, but he always came home to Steve. He loved that part of day when he finally climbed three flights of stairs and turned the lock in the doors; Steve sat in their only chair, moved closer to the window for the best light, sketching in his notebook and waiting for him to come back. Bucky would lean against the doors, toeing off his shoes, and the corners of his lips would lift up involuntary. He always gave Steve a quick hug before going to shower, the blonde wrinkling up his nose in distaste. 

Once a month they let themselves enjoy their young age and went dancing. Steve hated that, having two left feet, but he always went with Bucky and pretended to enjoy himself for Bucky’s sake. They put on their best clothes and used a bit of cologne, the only bottle they had, that Bucky’s parents got them for Christmas every year. Bucky smoothed his hair with pomade and Steve made a face every time the brunette tried to convince him to use it too. By then, Bucky’s feelings for Steve were stronger than ever. His heart beat faster whenever Steve shortened his name to ‘Buck’ or hugged him. They still slept in one bed, spooning, and Bucky had to take cold showers way more often than he’d like. The nights when they went dancing were his favorites, as well as the ones he hated the most. Favorite, because he could take Steve out and see him wear his best slacks and a button up with a tie. Hated, because even though they went out together, he couldn’t do what all the other couples did; couldn’t do a slow dance with Steve, couldn’t casually drop a kiss to his temple or on his lips. He couldn’t take Steve by his waist and drop him down, leaning over him, feeling Steve’s breath ghosting on his face. Sure, they danced in their room, Bucky using the excuse of needing to teach the other man how to dance properly. But it wasn’t the same, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to take Steve out, hold his hand and open doors for him. He wanted to give him flowers and pester him with kisses. He wanted to run his hand through Steve’s hair every time they went to bed and kiss him goodnight. Bucky wanted to kiss him good morning, too, and to kiss every inch of his small, bony body. 

Bucky didn’t get to do any of that, and instead had to pretend his feelings didn’t exist. He didn’t even know if Steve liked him that way too. Sure, he had his suspicions, as sometimes when they woke up Steve went to the bathroom quickly, his face all red. Sometimes, when they were talking, Steve’s eyes would drop to his lips, and whenever Bucky noticed, he ran his tongue over them slowly, excitement thrumming through his veins as Steve’s eyes followed. They never talked about it though, not once. They never mentioned the possibility of any of them dating or even being attracted to someone. The only times it was an uncomfortable subject were after going to the dancehalls. Bucky was in his element on the dance floor, and, after a few watered-down beers, he loosened his tie and his eyes scanned the room, looking for a dance partner. He never let his eyes linger on Steve for too long; he was afraid of being caught. Instead, he winked at the first dame his eyes fell on and extended his hand, waiting for her to accept the invitation. They always came and danced with him till they were both out of breath. Sometimes, he would sneak out with them out the back doors, craving human touch. He knew Steve could tell what he was doing because of his disheveled hair and hiss button up tucked in his slacks messily. The blonde never commented on it, though, just gave him a small smile and went back to sipping his one and only beer for the night. On their way back home, Bucky would throw his arm around Steve’s shoulder, tucking him close. The blonde always shook his head, but chuckled nonetheless, and, once in bed, Bucky would give Steve’s shoulder a quick peck before falling asleep, blaming it on the alcohol later. 

*

Bucky focuses his eyes on the oranges in front of him, instead of the images in his head. He pops the last slice into his mouth and goes back to the kitchen, opening the fridge and wondering what to make for lunch. His cooking is far from perfect but he can still make something simple, something his mom taught him when he and Steve were moving out of his parents’ house. Bucky opens the fridge and pulls out cheese and cream. He grabs flour and pasta from the shelf, deciding to make mac’n’cheese from the scratch. It’s something he and Steve used to eat all the time, usually with canned sauce as they couldn’t afford to buy all the ingredients separately. The corners of his lips lift up slightly as he remembers, and he pours some water into the pot to boil it. Bucky shreds the cheese next and pulls out another pot to put cream and butter into it. Once it’s mixed, he adds some flour and shredded cheese. He stirs it until it’s creamy and turns the heat down, putting pasta in the boiling water after. Waiting for it to cook, Bucky pulls his phone from his jeans pocket and quickly scrolls through the news. He knows Steve’s mission wasn’t one of the official ones and he probably won’t find anything about it; nevertheless, his heart stills while looking through the Avengers and Captain America’s tags. Once he’s sure nothing bad happened, he puts the phone screen down on the kitchen island and leans against it. Steve should’ve been home yesterday, and even though Bucky has some mixed feelings about the blonde, he worries nonetheless. 

See, the thing is, that ever since Bucky came back, they haven’t talked about what they mean to each other, now, or in the past. Bucky is as confused as ever, and the fact that Steve hasn’t mentioned his name publicly even once since waking up from his 70 years long sleep only adds to it. The brunet also can’t help but feel a bit bitter—about everything, really. But mostly about the fact that he seems to be forgotten, not only by the history, but also by the man who he thought was his everything. Bucky doesn’t really know how he feels so he has no idea how to act around Steve, his hurt squeezing his chest every time he sees the blonde. He still loves Steve, though, just like he did back in the day, and the worry inside him grows bigger with every hour that passes. It’s Steve’s second Avengers mission since Bucky showed up on his doorstep, and Bucky already knows it won’t be his last. Steve’s still the national icon, the noble soldier, the hero of the century. 

But Bucky? He’s no one. 

*

Bucky knew it was all too good to be true, even with the economic crisis making their lives miserable, so of course it all went to hell. He was at work when the news about Pearl Harbor broke in the radio. He raced home as soon as he was finished, but Steve already knew. And with that, he already checked where the nearest enlistment office was so he could go there the next day. They had their biggest fight that night, yelling at each other till the neighbors from next room came and told them to be quiet. Bucky did everything he could to stop Steve from joining the army—he asked, pleaded and even begged. Steve was stubborn though, always had been. He had his mind set and there was nothing Bucky could’ve said or done. They went to bed in silence, backs to each other, leaving as much space between them as possible. Bucky had barely any sleep that night; his mind was racing with so many possibilities of losing Steve, he had to bite down on his fist hard to keep himself from sobbing out loud. Still, the worst scenario was what happened the following day. Steve didn’t say a single word to Bucky in the morning, and when he came home from work, the blonde threw his 4F right in Bucky’s face. The brunet knew Steve was mad and disappointed; mad at himself for being so small and sickly, disappointed that he couldn’t help his country in the time of need. Bucky kept a straight face, even though inside he was so relieved. Relieved Steve would be safe, here, at home, away from the trenches, tanks, grenades and bullets flying through the air. He pulled Steve in his arms then, hugging him tight and keeping him close to his heart. Steve was stiff at first, but then he relaxed, clinging to Bucky’s undershirt and weeping silently into it. Bucky stroked his hair gently, murmuring nonsense into his good ear, and dropping barely-there kisses to his temple. When they parted, Steve’s eyes were puffy, but his jaw was set and Bucky’s heart dropped. He should’ve known better. Steve was a fighter, always had been, so of course he wouldn’t give up. However, Bucky still had that tiny bit of hope Steve would get rejected once more. Call him a bad friend, but the thought of Steve, his Stevie, being out there in Europe, fighting in the cold and mud and all the horrible things war brought with it, was making Bucky’s blood turn ice-cold. 

That week was all a blur for Bucky. He went to work at dawn and came back in the afternoons only to find Steve sitting deep in his thought, another rejected form in his lap. They never discussed Bucky’s enlistment, both knowing the brunet would never leave Steve’s side without being ordered to. Call him unpatriotic, but there was no chance in hell he would up and leave the person he already knew was the love of his life. Sure, maybe they were never to be together. It didn’t matter to Bucky though, he was happy to be Steve’s best friend till the end of his life. Besides, he knew the letter was coming for him, he could feel it in his bones. So of course, that Sunday, when they went to Bucky’s parents for dinner, George opened the door with an envelope with Bucky’s name on it in his hand. The brunet tucked it in his jacket right away, even though he could tell Steve saw it by the flash of hurt in his eyes. He scolded his expression quickly, but by then Bucky read him like a book. They all ate dinner without actually mentioning the war or the letter, and only when Steve was taking takeout containers from Winifred, George came up to Bucky, hugged him tightly and told him to make his country proud. 

Bucky still thanks heavens that his father never lived to see what really became of his only son. 

The rest of the month was a blur to Bucky too. He quit his job the next day, and was paid extra for going to serve his country. All his coworkers wished him luck and asked to wait for them to join him before ending the war. Everyone he knew congratulated him that day. Bucky thought it was a sick joke, as going to war and leaving Steve was the last thing he wanted to do. It made him short of breath and his head dizzy and he just wanted to scream helplessly. He didn’t though. He joked around about decking Hitler himself and, on his way back, bought a brand new sketchbook and a set of pencils with the extra money. When he got back, Steve still wasn’t there so Bucky went out again. He went to the florist’s and asked for a flower that symbolized love. She guessed right away that he was shipping away and needed a flower for his sweetheart that would stay at home. Giving him a single white rose, she said she was sure his lady would wait for him. Bucky didn’t correct her, giving her a small smile as his eyes started to water, and left, dragging his feet all the way back. 

That time, when he pushed the doors open, Steve was already back. He was laying on their bed, curled up and facing the other way. Bucky threw his jacket on the floor and toed off his shoes, padding down to the bed quietly. He sat behind Steve’s back and started rubbing small circles between the blonde’s shoulder blades. Steve wiped at his eyes, keeping his face away from the brunet, and Bucky’s heart broke. He knew how much helping their country meant for Steve and how little it did to him. He gave out a strangled laugh, his voice breaking, as the irony of the situation became too much for him. Steve would give everything to enlist; Bucky would do the same to stay home, at the blonde’s side. His eyes stung with tears as he leaned down and dropped a kiss to Steve’s shoulder. He sat up, leaning against the wall, and pulled the other man closer to him. Steve hid his face in Bucky’s shirt and fisted his hands in it, shaking slightly as quiet sobs escaped his lips. Bucky was to go to basics in two days and neither of them was ready to say goodbye. Bucky laid the flower on the bed beside him and started stroking Steve’s hair gently, running his other hand down the man’s back in soothing motions. Tears were silently falling down his face too, as he realized this was one of few nights they had left together. Theoretically, he knew there was a chance of him coming back home; his father did, so why wouldn’t he? He had someone to come back to, someone worth living for. But, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that the future he wanted with Steve was just a wishful dream. So Bucky stroked the blonde’s hair, his entire world curled up in his lap, and tried to not give in to the negative thoughts. Once Steve calmed down enough to stop shaking, Bucky entwined their fingers, something he did only once before, too afraid of giving his feelings away, and rubbed small circles on the blonde’s hand. When Steve looked up, the brunet wiped away the reminder of his tears and brought their joined hands to his lips, leaving a chaste kiss on Steve’s. The blonde’s lips curled in a sad smile, his eyes bright and shiny, seemingly bigger without his glasses. Bucky had to muster all the self-restraint he had to not lean down and kiss Steve senseless. Instead, he ran his free hand through the man’s hair again, slowly, gently, and let his eyes show everything he felt. They locked eyes, leaving their emotions unspoken, and Bucky pulled Steve up, making him sit on his thighs. He gave Steve the rose and, at the blonde’s surprised expression, just brought their hands to his lips again, holding Steve’s hand there for longer that time and still keeping eye contact. Bucky knew he didn’t have to say anything; Steve knew how he felt just as much as Bucky knew about the man’s love for him. Steve put the flower down gently and crossed his arms behind Bucky’s neck, letting his head rest against the brunette’s shoulder. Bucky did the same and they stayed like that, inhaling each other. When Steve finally lifted his head, he cupped Bucky’s cheek and run his thumb on the man’s lower lip. Bucky’s lips parted, taking a sharp breath, and before he knew what was happening, Steve was kissing him. It was just a chaste kiss at first; then the blonde parted his lips too and run his tongue on Bucky’s lower lip, licking into his mouth tentatively. The brunet hummed, content, and then Steve was really kissing him, slow and sweet, and Bucky swore he could have died happily in that moment. They were kissing lazily, exploring each other and moaning softly each time they parted to take a breath. Bucky was fixated on Steve’s mouth, red and shiny, so he kept leaning in for more, never having enough. He ran his hand through the blonde’s hair and then down his spine, cupping his ass and squeezing gently. Steve sucked his lower lip in response and suddenly their kiss became heated, electric, and not enough. Bucky had never undressed that fast before and when he came, with Steve’s name on his mouth and hand in his hair, war was the last thing on his mind. 

*

After finishing his lunch, Bucky puts the rest of it in tupperware and then in the fridge. He does the dishes, his mind drifting between the past and the present, and dries them off. Checking his phone once again, making sure there is no new news on the Avengers, Bucky decides to go out. He can’t be alone in the empty apartment right now; it’s too much for him and whatever’s left of his sanity. Theoretically, he knows he has no right to be mad at Steve—he and the blonde never discussed what they were, what they _are_ to each other, and Bucky can’t hold it against him if Steve doesn’t feel the love for Bucky anymore. Hell, he only had eyes for Carter even before this whole shitshow with Hydra happened. And it’s definitely not Steve’s fault that, while he was being praised and worshiped, Bucky was just another fallen soldiers, remembered only by few historians. Still, Bucky can’t help but feel betrayed, used; he was with Steve since the beginning, he _loved_ Steve since he knew what love meant, and yet no one seems to care. 

Bucky clenches his fists, the metal of his left arm whirling loudly, and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knows damn well he shouldn’t be shoving his feelings down—at some point he’ll explode. But he can’t be mad at Steve now, not when the blonde is away fighting god knows who again, along with the rest of the Avengers. If something happened, Bucky would be on the first plane to wherever they are, anything to make sure Steve’s safe. Even though he knows Steve can handle himself—and pretty _damn_ well, too—Bucky worries sick about his safety. After all, the blonde is the only thing that makes Bucky’s life worth living. Bucky’s heart still jumps whenever Steve calls him “Buck,” and the man’s smile is still the most beautiful thing Bucky’s ever seen. Bucky’s love for Steve is the only thing that rescued him, the only thing that brought him back to life. 

Bucky just wishes his feelings weren’t one-sided. 

*

When Bucky came back home from training, he knew he was going to be shipped away as quickly as possible. All the commanding officers nodded whenever they saw him in action and he had spent more time shooting guns and rifles than any other man at the camp. He wasn’t happy about it, not in the slightest. But, if he was being honest, he liked the heavy weight of the rifle on his shoulder, the small kick-back after he fired and the whiz in the air as the bullet came rushing forward. He didn’t admit it out loud, though, and when Steve asked him about training, he only said it was exhausting. When they woke up next morning, Bucky had to go to get his uniform fitted and Steve had the afternoon off. They made plans to go to the movies together for the last time, until Bucky comes back from war. None of them knew yet Bucky’s orders were to come the exact same day. He wanted to surprise the blonde, so after getting his uniform he went home to change quickly. He dropped by his parents to show off, and George slipped the envelope in his hands. They all hugged tightly, Winifred and Becca crying, both Bucky and George fighting their own tears. The brunet said his last goodbye to his family, and raced to the movies, knowing he’ll probably be late. He was just about to turn the corner next to the theater when he heard a fight in a back alley. His blood boiled as the worst case scenario came to his mind. He ran into the alley and sure, there was Steve fighting someone twice his size. Bucky yelled at the guy and kicked his ass, helping the blonde up afterwards. He noticed Steve tried to enlist again and had to restrain himself from picking up yet another fight with the blonde. Instead, Steve asked him about his orders, he could tell from the look on Bucky’s face. The brunet put on a brave face, bouncing on his heels slightly, and dropped his rank. _Sergeant_. It sounded wrong even to his own ears, but he didn’t want to disappoint the blonde even more. He had a nice surprise for him, and since they were already late to the movies, he decided to tell Steve now. They were going to the Stark Expo and Bucky finally found a way to take him on a date. He met a girl in a dancehall and it quickly turned out she was as interested in him as he was in her; instead, she kept throwing longing glances to the girl she came with. Bucky had made a deal with her then, and now they were finally putting it into action. The four of them met at the expo, happy to pretend to be on a double date just to be with the ones they truly loved. Watching Stark on stage, Bucky hooked his pinkie around Steve’s looking behind his shoulder cautiously. They couldn’t hold hands like the girls did; it wasn’t appropriate for two men. So he did what he could to show Steve his affection, and gave him a small smile, one only the blonde would understand. The night of course, ended in yet another fight between them. Steve tried to enlist again, and Bucky was scared they would actually take him. If not now, then eventually, and he won’t even be there to find out. His heart was thrumming in his chest, but all he could do was to hug the blonde and call him a punk. He left Steve at the enlistment office, and took the girls dancing as he promised. When he came home that night, the blonde still wasn’t back. Bucky packed all the essentials he needed in his duffle bag and prepared his uniform for the next day. He had to leave at an asscrack of a down and he couldn’t fall asleep without Steve’s small frame curled on his chest. He fidgeted under the covers, but sleep finally came to him. When Bucky woke up, Steve was asleep at his side. He ran his hand through the blonde’s hair and kissed his temple, blinking back tears. Bucky took a quick shower and put his uniform on, ready to go. He looked at Steve curled up in bed and bit down on his lower lip. He wanted to just turn the lock and leave, but he couldn’t; not without saying goodbye to Steve first. The brunet sat down on their bed softly, and cupped Steve’s cheek, running his thumb over the blonde’s lips. When Steve blinked and opened his eyes, Bucky smiled down at him and ruffled his hair affectionately. The blonde sat up and threw his arms over Bucky’s neck, hiding his face in the brunet’s shoulder. Bucky laughed, a sob escaping his throat, and ran his hands up and down Steve’s spine. They stayed like that for a while, breathing each other in, until Steve pulled back and pressed his lips to Bucky’s. The kiss was sweet, passionate, and over all too quickly. When Bucky left the apartment, his heart sunk and he went to the harbor without looking back. 

*

Bucky decides to go down the memory line and goes to Coney Island. He stays clear of all the rides, going to the beach instead. He and Steve used to come here all the time, wishing they had money to spend in the park. Now, however, money isn’t the problem—it’s the noisiness, the kids, the chaos. Bucky’s skin crawls just hearing the loud conversations and music coming from the rides. There’s too many people for him to relax, and he looks behind his shoulder more often than he usually does. Coming to the beach, he walks down all the way to the water and sinks down there, letting the waves drown out the world behind him. Bucky puts his right palm in the sand and plays with it, his legs crossed in front of him. He makes sure he has all his weapons at hand and covers his metal hand with a glove to prevent any sand getting in between the plates. Bucky takes a deep breath, looking at the ocean. The deep blue of it, bathed in sunshine, reminds him of Steve’s eyes on hot summer days. 

*

At war, all Bucky could think about was Steve. Everyone from his unit had their sweethearts at home and wrote them letters so Bucky pretended to do the same, only his letters were for a certain 5’4” blonde with asthma, bad eyesight, deaf in one ear. He wrote to his family too, but he spared them all atrocities of the war. He wrote about canned food, mud, cold and the guys from his unit that turned out to be great companions. His family wrote back to him too, although he never got a letter from Steve. He started worrying so he asked his parents about the blonde, but they just said he was alright and there was nothing to worry about; his letters were probably lost in the mail. Bucky tried to not give in to worry, but his heart was sinking deeper and deeper with every day that passed. He still fought with all his heart, but it was now more about his unit than about himself; he didn’t care as much about his own safety as he did before. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he figured Steve finally found himself a nice dame and settled down with her. He probably didn’t write to Bucky because he didn’t know how to tell him. 

The thing was, the brunet was happy for him. Steve deserved a nice lady who would love him just as much as Bucky did. Bucky knew him and Steve just weren’t meant to be; definitely not in their life times. He made his peace with it a long time ago; about the time he heard the folks from the docks swearing at one of them and calling him a queer and a fag. The guy was fired the next day, and Bucky’s dreams about future with Steve went with him. He was fine with loving Steve in secret for the rest of his life. What he wanted was for Steve to be happy, he didn’t care much about himself no more. 

So, when Bucky’s unit was captured, deep down in his heart he was relieved. He felt bad for his new friends, but he himself was glad. He would die at war and Steve would be finally free from his ghost. When the next guy didn’t come back from wherever they were taking them and they took Bucky in, he almost smiled. It was finally his turn to disappear, to stop suffering from a broken heart and a memory of soft lips licking into his. He didn’t even fight that much when they strapped him to a table and started poking his veins with needles. Sure, he put on a show and the damned thing really hurt, but he was mostly waiting for the sweet kiss of death. He didn’t die, though. He couldn’t tell how long he was strapped to that godforsaken table, but he wasn’t dying, that was for sure. He started thrashing and fidgeting, screaming his throat raw, but they only pumped more and more into his bloodstream. After some time he was delirious and nothing seemed real to him anymore. He didn’t know where he was or what he was doing. The only thing he could do was repeat his name and rank, along with his serial number. 

Sometimes, he had dreams. Some of them were of him finally closing his eyes for good; some were about blonde hair bathed in sunlight, as a sweet laugh reached his ears and a wide smile blinded his eyes. Some focused on a little girl with long, brown curls and deep brown eyes. He couldn’t tell what was real anymore, so when someone called his name, bright blue eyes looking down on him, he thought he had finally died. He smiled, as the eyes reminded him of someone he knew in his life. Bucky whispered ‘ _Steve_ ’ as the name resurfaced in his mind. The person looking at him looked exactly like the love of his life, only bigger and stronger, and Bucky wanted to tell them it was a mistake; he had done so many bad things in his life, he shouldn’t be in heaven. But the person pulled at his weak body and sat him up, the relief flooding their features so visible Bucky had to blink. He realized he was far from being dead, and far from being asleep too. Steve was standing there, right in front of him. Although, it wasn’t his Steve. It wasn’t his _Stevie_. This Steve was big and built like a tank. He didn’t have his glasses on, his bright blue eyes on full display, and there was no rattle coming from his lungs, no wheezing escaping from his lips. He looked like he could snap Bucky’s neck with just one arm, and the suit he was wearing was red, white, and blue. Bucky still didn’t quite trust his eyes, but there was no time for further questions, so he just trusted Steve and followed. 

All of Bucky’s questions were answered on their walk back to base, after escaping the facility. Steve, the stubborn idiot he had always been, finally joined the army, agreeing to being pumped with an experimental serum that made him a supersoldier. He explained that he never wrote back, because he wasn’t home; he was traveling all over the States selling bonds to support the troops. When he came to Italy and learned that Bucky was captured, he rushed to his rescue, his gut telling him the brunet wasn’t dead. Bucky was still shaky on his legs, and didn’t trust his mind, so he didn’t ask the question he wanted to know the answer to the most. 

Besides, it became clear the moment they marched into base. Agent Carter came up to them, and all Bucky had to do was to take one look at Steve’s face to know the guy’s heart didn’t belong to him anymore. Bucky’s own heart shattered, finally getting the confirmation he wanted and witnessing it with his own eyes. He tried to hide it by chanting ‘Captain America’ although the name left a sour taste in his mouth. He couldn’t look Steve in the eyes, he couldn’t even look at him at all. He quickly sneaked out of the crowd and went back to his tent, throwing himself on his bed. He wasn’t surprised to see that all of his belongings were already packed, ready to be shipped back to his family. Bucky hid his face in his pillow, but the tears didn’t come. Instead, he was overwhelmed with a feeling of emptiness. His little Stevie was no longer his or even little. No, he was big, beefy and painfully not interested in Bucky. The brunet closed his eyes and fisted his hands in the sheets, wishing he had died strapped at that fucking table. 

What followed was the worst year and two months of Bucky’s life. After Bucky refused to be honorably discharged, not able to leave Steve’s side no matter how hard he wanted to, he and Steve formed a special ops unit called the Howling Commandos. Steve asked Dugan, Jones, Morita, Falsworth and Dernier to join him, and these dumbasses actually said yes. They were sitting in a dancehall, and all Steve had to do was to buy them another round. Bucky followed too, there was no question. He came to terms with Steve’s obvious feeling for Agent Carter and put on a mask of indifference. It pained him that the blonde was no longer his, but Bucky would still die having Steve in his heart. It was hard, seeing them in briefings, witnessing how awkward and pink the blonde was around her. What was harder though, was maneuvering the situation between Bucky and him. Steve still thought of Bucky as his best friend and the brunet felt terrible each time he had to be in a room alone with him. He and Bucky had to share a tent, as the brunet was Steve’s second in command. He tried to distance himself as much as he could, but he was drawn to the man, always had been. The worst, though, were the nights. They had their separate camp beds and even though all Bucky wanted to do was to join them and fall asleep breathing Steve’s scent in, he didn’t dare to bring that up. They fell asleep on the opposite sides of the tent, with their backs to each other. The space was so small Bucky could pick up Steve’s breathing, and he never fell asleep before the blonde. He was still having troubles getting used to the fact that Steve no longer wheezed, was no longer short of breath. His heartbeat was strong and his breath even. On nights when Bucky had nightmares and woke up screaming, Steve was up, shaking him awake, but they never hugged. Steve never offered any comfort, apart from the weight of his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, and the brunet never asked, too ashamed of his feeling for the man. They were inseparable yet again, but this time it wasn’t voluntary. Bucky wished so many times he could just up and leave, not caring about everyone he would had left behind. He couldn’t though. As much as he hated himself for still being in love with Steve and not being able to let him go, he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the man alone in combat zone. He did his part, as the best damn sniper the army had ever seen, and one of the best seconds in command. He didn’t dare talking to Steve about what happened in Azzano, even though the blonde brought up the subject many times. Steve would give him that look, his lips in a small pout, his eyes filled with worry. Bucky always changed the subject, brushing it off. He always said he didn’t remember what had happened, even though he could still feel the burning pain in his veins. He also got stronger, his hearing and vision got better. His reflexes were faster and he didn’t tire as fast as before. Bucky himself was scared of thinking what this could mean, so he pushed it at the back of his mind, where all of his problems lay. 

*

Bucky is startled by a loud shriek somewhere close to him. He almost jumps, his muscles tensing up immediately, his left hand closed in a fist. He looks around, and sees two teens, one of them pushing the other one into the ocean. Bucky shakes his head slowly, letting his muscles relax, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. He stands up, brushing off his pants, and walks back to the subway. He takes the train home and after a while he’s back on the streets, keeping close to the buildings and dodging people in his way. Bucky makes a quick stop at the local florist, deciding to surprise Steve with the same flower he did all those years ago. Back at home, he puts the rose in a tall glass on the coffee table and sinks down on the cushions facing the window. The sun is setting down, the sky painted in different shades of orange, red and pink. The colors are so vibrant, so vivid, they remind him of all the campfires that kept Bucky and the Howlies warm during the war. 

*

One night, at the beginning of 1945, they were deep in the mountains of Austria, having a mission to complete the next day. All the Howlies were seated by the small fire, talking quietly about how much they hated the war. The subject quickly changed to their loved ones that stayed at home. Dum Dum pointed out that Bucky stopped writing letters to his sweetheart, and the brunette glared at him so hard, all the other man promptly shut their mouths. Steve arched his eyebrow at Bucky, who took a drug of his smoke and pretended to not see the confused expression on the blonde’s face. Before Steve could say anything though, Gabe asked him about Peggy. Even in the small shine of the fire, Bucky could tell Steve was as red as a beetroot. His shoulders rose to his ears as he said a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. Bucky thought his heart ached before, but it took that confession for him to learn the real heartbreak. As the Howlies wolf-whistled, clasping Steve on the shoulder, Bucky got up and went further into the woods. His knees gave up pretty quickly and he sank down, his back resting against a tree. He was cold from sitting on the snow, but at that moment he couldn’t care less. He was furious with himself for ever loving Steve, for believing Steve could love him back. His throat closed up, as the anger took the better of him and his fists closed, his fingernails digging hard into his flesh and drawing blood. Bucky was mad at himself, at Carter, but most of all, at Steve. Steve, who promised they’d be together till the end of the line, who promised to be by Bucky’s side no matter what. Bucky’s mind flashed with all the memories from their childhood together. The first day of second grade, when the scrawny new kid pushed his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose, his head down as he went to his desk. The day when Steve told him about his parents, and Bucky promised he’d be there for him no matter what. The day when Steve got into his first fist fight, ending up on the ground with a split lip, bloodied nose and knuckles, and Bucky came to his rescue, promising he’d catch him every time the blonde would fall. The day when they moved out together, and Steve hugged him so hard Bucky was short of breath. 

Ever since they had met, Bucky did everything in his power to make Steve happy. He was there for the blonde when no one else was, and that was what he was getting for it. Nothing but cold, snow, and heartbreak. Deep in his mind, Bucky knew his anger was irrational; he knew him and Steve could never really be together the way he wanted to, the way he needed to. He needed Steve like he needed oxygen, and at that moment he felt like he was suffocating. Bucky felt used, spent, and thrown aside. He helped Steve through their crappy childhood just so the blonde could get pumped with some weird ass shit and be all muscle. He fought tooth and nail for Steve’s well-being, and now Carter was getting everything he ever wanted and more. And in the end, Steve didn’t even had the balls to tell him about Carter himself. He never brought the subject up, letting his actions speak for themselves. Hell, Steve even had Carter’s picture in his compass, she was his true North. 

Bucky put his fist into his mouth to not make any sound as his eyes started to water. He felt like someone ripped his heart right out of his chest, leaving a gaping hole in its place. He pulled up his knees and hid his face in them, his breath heavy and shaky. He didn’t know what to do, but most of all he didn’t know how to face Steve. How could he? The memory of their last morning together, Steve’s small body in his lap and his lips pressed into Bucky’s, was still fresh in his mind. When he closed his eyes, he could still vividly remember kissing Steve’s hand, their fingers entwined. It seemed like a day before; meanwhile, Steve found a woman he could have a future with. Bucky was happy for him, he was. He just wished he wasn’t there to witness it. He thought he could bear it. He thought seeing Steve being loved for who he was, even if not by Bucky, would make him over the moon. Steve deserved best, and Bucky never was that option. He knew there would come a time when they had to part ways, get married. Bucky just liked to assume it would come later than sooner. He definitely didn’t think that it would happen there, in an active war zone. 

Walking back to their tent, Bucky wished, for what seemed like a hundred time, that his suffering ended on Zola’s table. 

Little did Bucky know that he hadn’t had much time with Steve left. After sneaking inside, and throwing his sleeping back over himself as quietly as he could, Bucky stayed up all night. He was dead on his feet the next day, but it was supposed to be a simple task. The train with Zola was speeding through the mountains. All they had to do was enter and bring the scientist back to the camp. If Bucky made himself a promise to kill the fucker on sight, no one had to know. 

However, what happened was something entirely different. The train turned out to be a trap, which Bucky realized the minute they entered. He shot the goons he could, but he didn’t see the last one coming. When the man turned his weapon in Steve’s direction and the blonde fell down, Bucky didn’t think straight. He grabbed Steve’s shield and started shooting. The bullets went flying, but the man had already fired his weapon, throwing Bucky of balance and off the train. He held onto the railing with all the strength he could muster and when Steve extended his hand to him, Bucky tried to catch it. A thought crossed his mind, though. 

_Why?_

The fall would kill him for sure and then Steve could be with Carter without Bucky walking in their shadow. Steve would be finally free of him, and Bucky wouldn’t have to look at the man he loved the most walk away with a woman the brunet had no chance against. The railing was more and more wobbly, and, pretending to reach out further, Bucky twisted his other hand just the right amount. The railing finally came off, taking him down. 

Bucky fell screaming. 

* 

Bucky closes his eyes, a single tear streaming down his face. He doesn’t like remembering what happened after the fall. The sun is set now, and there is still no sign of Steve. Bucky pulls out his phone and quickly checks the tags again—the Avengers are still nowhere near the headlines. He lets out a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He knows no news is good news, but he still wishes he had any information about Steve’s mission. It’s not like he can ask anyone, though. Almost no one knows Bucky’s back—sure, those who track Hydra probably realised their favorite asset went rogue, but the world has no idea Bucky Barnes is back from the dead. He guesses Steve hasn’t told many people, as he confessed he hasn’t told any of his teammates, besides Wilson. With everything that happened, most of the Avengers, and definitely Stark, would want to see him dead. However, Bucky can’t blame them; even though he was brainwashed and unaware of what he was doing, he’s still responsible for what he did. And he did _a lot_. Killing Stark’s parents is just the tip of the iceberg. 

Bucky swears as he enters his room, laying down on his bed. The memories are flooding his mind, and there is nothing he can do, but to relieve them all over again. 

*

He lost consciousness the moment his body hit the ground. In a lucid moment, he felt being dragged through the snow. He doesn’t remember the pain, the blood loss, the concussion. He was out of it most of the time, and the next thing he remembers is being strapped to yet another table. Then, everything blurs and he can't tell what happened when. Bucky recalls the pain, the feeling of having every single bone in his body broken. He remembers his veins burning after receiving another injections and being prodded with needles. Bucky can still feel the pain in his right wrist and left stump, that he still had then, after struggling to get out of metal chains that they used to strap him to the chair. He remembers metal hoop, closing around his forehead, as they electrocuted his brain. Bucky remembers being beaten unconscious, stripped naked and taken advantage of. He can’t forget being chained to the wall when they sprayed his body with ice cold water from a hose. They would feed him through IV drips, not bothering to sanitize them first, which gave him infections and caused him to throw up with blood. He recalls being trained to fight, to shoot, to snap necks with his tights. They often locked him in a cell with no light inside and made him fight with their best soldiers. When he won, they patched him up and let him spend the night in a room with a urinal. If he lost, they left him bleeding in a cell, chained to a wall, often with broken bones and deep wounds. His body healed itself faster then, and he screamed his throat raw when broken bones were knitting themselves together, often in a wrong way. Every time that happened, they would break them over and over again, until they were knitted right. 

What Bucky remembers most, was his last day of consciousness before being put on ice. They woke him up with a hose and left him shivering on the bare ground for a couple hours. Then, they took him into a room and strapped to a metal table. He was naked, the belts cutting into his skin. They cut off his stump all the way to his shoulder with a saw, without giving him any drugs. He kept losing consciousness from pain and, to keep him awake, they spilled buckets of ice cold water over his head. Then, they put the metal arm on him, the wires causing electroshocks. When they finally sedated Bucky, he was already barely breathing from pain and exhaustion. They woke him up with another cold shower, causing him to scream, and told him to move the arm. He immediately grabbed the guy closest to him by his throat and, closing his fist, choked him to death. He got beaten and hose-sprayed for that, and, at that point, he couldn’t care less if he lived or not. The last thing he remembers from that time, is the face of Zola, leaning over him, and telling Bucky he’d be the new fist of Hydra. After that, there was only ice, cold, and murders. 

*

Remembering everything that have been done to him leaves Bucky shaking, his clothes soaking with sweat. He curses at everything and everyone that brought him to the point he is now—the draft, the war, Hydra, and himself. He should’ve died a long time ago; instead, he’s a ghost of the past, haunting Steve’s future. Steve would be so much better without him, and yet Bucky can’t bring himself to leave. He’s selfish like that—Steve is, and always was, Bucky’s everything. Bucky cared for him, fought for him, even _died_ for him. Without Steve, Bucky’s life would be empty, pointless. So he stays, stays for his own good. He lived without Steve once, and he’d rather die than do it again. 

Besides, Bucky knows Steve is the only person that keeps him from being the Soldier again. If not for the blonde, Bucky would probably still be Hydra’s puppet, not able to make any decision and out of control of his mind and body. And even though he knows depending on one person so hard cannot be good for him, Bucky couldn’t care less. He knows all too well what he’s capable of without Steve in his life. 

*

The memories of what he had done came to him only after the Potomac. Captain America’s blue eyes looking up at him, one almost swollen shut, reminded him of someone he knew in another life. The Soldier hesitated with his fist over the blonde, ready to deliver the final blow, when the Captain said those words. _Till the end of the line_. It made some distant part of the Soldier’s brain scream bloody murder, and, before he knew what was happening, the rail under them gave out and fell down. The Soldier managed to grab another rail, but the Captain fell like a puppet. The Soldier looked down at his falling body, trying to make sense of what his mind was screaming at him. One part wanted to let the Captain drown and complete his mission; the other was forcing him to go down too, and save the man. With every second that had passed, the other part of his brain was getting more and more frantic, knowing there wasn’t much time left. The Soldier closed his eyes and let go. 

He dove and his metal fist closed over the Captain’s arm and the Soldier swam up. He got out of the river and looked over the Captain’s body. The blonde wasn’t breathing, so he leaned down and performed CPR on him, until the man started coughing up water. The Soldier sat next to him, taking heavy breaths as his head span from the lack of oxygen. When his breath finally stabilized, he closed his eyes and turned his mind back on. The Soldier’s part was telling him to run and find his handlers; the other part insisted on staying and making sure the Captain was alive. He tilted his head, his eyebrows furrowed, and let the other part talk. He was immediately bombarded with information. 

His name was James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes. He was a sergeant in the 107th. 

The Captain’s name was Steven Grant Rogers. He was a captain in the 107th. 

They grew up together. They fought together. 

Barnes died alone. 

He opened his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath. The memories were floating his mind and he fisted his hands in his hair, his head spinning. It was too much, his breath was erratic. He shook his head, letting the Soldier’s part come forward. It told him to run; Barnes’ part begged him to stay. _Hide_ , he decided, at least until he could figure his brain out. Barnes’ part conceded, letting the Soldier take them someplace safe. He stayed low until the night came. When it got dark, he stole a first-aid kit from the first car he found and went to an abandoned warehouse, making sure no one was tracking him. Once sure, he stripped from his gear and treated his wounds. He didn’t have any civilian clothes, so after putting his gear back on and making sure all his weapons were on hand, he went out again and broke into a thrift shop. He took a backpack and filled it up with clothes and a cap, then grabbed some gloves and a jacket. He went back to the warehouse and changed, then left again, looking for another place. He found an abandoned bungalow, with broken windows and a creaky floor, but decided it would do for a day. He decided to sleep, the exhaustion of the fight and later revelation finally catching up to him. He suppressed Barnes’ part of his brain, that was trying to make him remember, and let the Soldier took over as he sat himself on the floor, hidden from any windows and doors. He drew out his handgun and, keeping it in his right hand, rested it in his lap. Then, he slipped into slumber. 

When he woke up, the place was quiet. Suppressing Barnes yet again, the Soldier checked the bungalow and only after he made sure he was safe, he came back to his position, resting his back against the wall. Keeping his eyes open, he let Barnes took over. He was immediately bombarded with the memories of his past life. The images of him, young and inexperienced floated in front of his eyes. He saw his family, his home, the ratty apartment he moved into later. He saw Steve, the scrawny kid with big blue eyes and bangs falling into his eyes, and the beefy man, leading his unit through an active warzone. He saw the Howlies, the trenches, the nights he spent by Steve’s bed when the man was sick and delirious with fever. He saw himself working at the docks, walking down the streets of Brooklyn, and burying his nose in yet another fantasy novel. He saw Winifred busying herself in the kitchen, George reading the newspaper and Becca jumping on the couch. What stroke him the most, was the image of him and little Steve, sitting on their bed, kissing. He took a deep breath as his past feelings hit him _hard_. His heart thrummed as the memory of butterflies exploding in his stomach resurfaced. He remembered entwining their fingers together, running his hands through Steve’s hair, tucking the blonde closer to him at nights. His breath was shaky as he recalled taking Steve in his arms and spinning him around in their tiny apartment, teaching him how to dance. 

His throat was already closing up from the flood of emotions, when his brain decided to torture him some more. The next memory that resurfaced was the moment they marched back into camp after Steve rescued him. Agent Carter came up to them and the blonde’s cheeks turned pink. His heart sunk deeper and deeper as he recalled all the times Steve and Carter flirted with each other. The memory of Carter coming into the dancehall they were at and not sparing him a second glance, having eyes only for Steve, hit him and a broken sob escaped his throat. The Soldier’s part of his mind was screaming at him to not make any sounds as his eyes started to water. He remembered the night right before he fell, Steve admitting that there was something between him and Carter. He remembered the fury he felt, the resignation, despair. He looked down and his hands and the image of reaching out for Steve’s hand as well as twisting the other, letting himself fall came to his mind. He drew in a shaky breath, realizing what he did. Realizing he’d rather die and let Steve be happy than live and be the cause of Steve’s worry. 

He blinked, quieting both parts of his mind. He should have died. Why was he alive, then? 

The Soldier rushed with answers, but he suppressed it for a little while longer. Where was he? And in what year? And why he had no recollection of Carter, even though he could remember all of his targets associated with the Captain: the Widow, the Falcon, Fury. 

He spent the next few days hiding low and gathering all information that he could. During the day, he would try to piece together what both parts of his brain were telling him; during the night, he would go out and look for any newspaper, or book, he could lay his hands on. Once he vaguely established it was 2014 and all of Hydra’s files were out in the open for anyone to see, he changed locations again, choosing an empty warehouse at the outskirts of the city. To Barnes, everything was new, different and confusing. The Soldier knew how to move around, how to blend in, how to use the modern technology and weapons. He went out one night and stole someone’s phone, looking up everything he could on Captain America. Once he knew the guy was alive and safe, he kept looking further for his history. The Internet was confusing even to the Soldier, so when he saw an ad for Captain’s exhibition at the Smithsonian, he threw the phone to the trash and came back to his safe-house. The next day, he went to the museum and spent there a couple hours, filling in the blanks between Barnes’ and the Soldier’s memory. He learned that Steve died only a couple months after him, crashing a plane into the ocean. They found him only three years before and the man immediately took on his position as the leader of the Avengers. The rest of the Howlies survived the war, which they eventually won. Carter got married and funded SHIELD; according to the museum, she was still alive. He went back to hiding, lifting up another phone on his way back. He searched through Hydra’s leaked files and the Soldier let him know there were people and facilities that weren’t mentioned in them. After another couple of days of gathering and processing information, he knew enough about himself, his past and the state of the world. 

His name was Bucky Barnes, even though most of the world knew him now as the Winter Soldier. He was credited with over two dozens assassinations in the last fifty years, though the Soldier told him the number was way higher than that. Even though the years were blurry, he remembered every kill, every mission. As the Winter Soldier, he was feared by almost everyone in the world; as Bucky Barnes, he was barely mentioned in the history books. Those who knew his real name were mostly referring to him as Captain’s childhood friend or just another one of the Howlies. No one really knew his history with Steve and no one really cared. Steve was elevated to the role of national hero and a role model for every American; Barnes was mostly forgotten. It pained him to realize that while Steve was viewed almost as a saint, Barnes was just another soldier who died in the war. No one looked for his body. Except for his family, probably no one came to his funeral either. Only Steve knew how much Barnes had done for him, but the man didn’t mention his name even once since he came out of the ice. He knew, since he watched almost every interview with the star-spangled man. He was mad, furious even. Nobody cared about him, no one but his family, who were then long dead. His blood boiled one night and he wanted nothing more than to go on confront Steve. Both parts of his mind stopped him then. The Soldier, because it would bring too much attention to him, while Hydra was still out there; Barnes, because it was _Steve_ and going to him would put him in danger. 

So, he made a promise to himself and both parts of his mind. He wouldn’t come near Steve until all of Hydra was dead and blown up; until he wiped them from the face of the Earth. Only then, would he reach out to Steve and try to rebuild their relation. He didn’t even care if Steve loved him back; he didn’t deserve it anyway. All he knew, and both parts of him agreed, was that he still had feelings for the blonde, and he still needed him as much as he needed to breathe. Maybe Steve didn’t want to have anything to do with him; he would be right. He was an assassin, a traitor, a cold-blooded murderer. He had done so many awful things in his life, he was way past the point of redemption. He didn’t deserve a second chance, but he had got it, and he wanted to make the best of it. 

He was both Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier, and they both wanted two things: bring an end to Hydra and make sure Steve Rogers was safe. 

*

Bucky managed to fall asleep sometime late at night. When he wakes, the sun is up and shining through the blinds, the shadows dancing on the wall opposite the window. Bucky blinks, looking up at the ceiling and listening—the apartment is quiet, which means Steve still hasn’t come back. Bucky rolls out of bed, his sweaty clothes sticking to his body, and runs his right hand through his hair. He puts it in a bun atop his head on his way to the bathroom and takes a long, hot shower to get rid of the tension left in his muscles. Bucky allows himself to relax, choosing Steve’s fancy coconut shower gel, instead of his usual soap. He wants to let his hair be, but decides against it, and washes it too. Once he’s all clean, he stands under the warm spray of water for a few more minutes, taking deep breaths and closing his eyes, his head leaning against the tiles. Steve’s apartment has an unlimited supply of hot water, something they didn’t have back in the day, and Bucky lets himself take advantage of it every once in a while. A couple minutes pass, then he steps out of the shower and dries himself, wrapping a towel around his midsection. He dries and combs his hair, then shaves, wiping the mirror clear of the steam first. When satisfied with the outcome, Bucky quickly applies some aftershave and leaves the bathroom, going back to his bedroom. He pulls out a pair of black boxer briefs and puts them on, then decides on black sweatpants and a burgundy henley, as he won’t have to go out today. After getting dressed, Bucky quickly checks the news for any new Avengers alerts. With nothing new, he sighs, his shoulders slumping a bit. Steve should’ve been home two days ago. Bucky can’t help but worry. 

He goes to the kitchen and puts on the coffee pot. Waiting for it to brew, he peels another orange, popping the slices straight into his mouth. When the coffee is done, Bucky pours himself a cup and goes to sit on the floor cushions. He looks out at the Brooklyn skyline, his mind wandering. He thinks of little Steve, with mouth too big for his own good; of his parents, sitting together on a couch and listening to the radio every Sunday after dinner; of Becca, and her dark ponytails tied with pink ribbon, jumping on a playground. Most importantly, though, he thinks of himself and Steve, of what they’ve been through, and where they are now, when he’s finally free of Hydra.

*

Bucky’s quest against Hydra started then. He traveled all around the world, tracking down forgotten facilities and living Hydra members. First, he took care of all of his old handlers who were somehow still alive. Then, he dealt with those who knew too much about him, even though they weren’t the ones who wiped his mind and prepared him for missions. He drained Hydra’s bank accounts, stashing the money in his safe houses, and took all the useful weaponry he could before blowing up old facilities. During this time, he also kept track of Steve and the rest of the Avengers. Most of them were fighting with the threats to the world or terrorists; Steve and the Falcon were looking for him, taking care of the remaining Hydra targets that didn’t go down with the rest of the ship. He was somehow grateful for the help, as they obviously knew he was doing the same thing. 

Once, they almost caught him. It was in Poland, an old, military base that was no longer in use. Hydra agents made it their hiding spot, keeping all the information about the Winter Soldier project there. It was close to Russia, in case they needed to transfer more files quickly, but at the same time far enough in any case of emergency. Bucky blew up all the facilities in Russia, knowing that Hydra would transfer all their important intel to Poland. He stayed low for a week, letting them think he left and had no knowledge of the Polish facility. Once he was certain all the people he wanted gone were there, as well as all their data on him and his past, he wanted to make a move. He neared the base heavily armed, ready to blow it all to hell. When he entered, he knew something was off immediately. Some Hydra goons were already dead, some were trying to escape, so he shot them with his silenced gun as to not draw any unwanted attention. He went further into the facility, a gun steady in his hand. Bucky kept to the shadows, even though all the cameras were dismantled. When he came close to the control room, he heard voices. He stopped by the doors, breathing quietly and drawing his gun up. He heard some papers being shuffled, and a man’s voice pleading, saying he didn’t know the whereabouts of someone. Next, he heard the Falcon calling out to Steve; his footsteps and a sound of a neck being broken followed. The Captain exhaled heavily and murmured something about another dead end. Bucky ducked into a dark hallway, as two pair of boots came closer the doors. He held his breath, as both Steve and the Falcon left the control room, their hands stuffed with files and loose documents. Bucky swore in his head, realizing they probably took the intel he wanted. Once they were far enough, he went into the room and made sure everyone inside was dead. He planted bombs everywhere he could, and then swept the entire facility again for any survivors. After he was satisfied, he left the base, careful to not come across Steve or his friend. When he made sure they wouldn’t be able to follow him, he pushed the trigger button and watched the flames explode. 

After that, there were only two Hydra bases left: one in Europe and one in Asia. He planned to deal with those as soon as he could, wanting nothing more than to start living his life without the constant need of looking after his shoulder. However, first he tracked down where Steve and the Falcon were hiding, and broke into their room when they were out looking for him. He knew Steve would want to stay in Poland for a couple of extra days after Bucky made his presence known by blowing up that base. He quickly looked through the files they had gathered, needing to know if he’d missed anything during his search for Hydra’s hiding spots. The documents mentioned a facility in the US, one he hadn’t come across before. The Soldier’s part of his brain didn’t know about that one either, so Bucky knew he had to visit the remaining two bases before Steve and the Falcon. He left the room without a single glance at the file on him, not wanting to distract himself. Bucky left Poland the same night, going straight to Romania. He knew he should rest and regroup, but he didn’t want to lose any time. He went straight to the base, finding all the remaining European Hydra agents there, as they just found out about his raid in Poland and wanted to plan their strategy. He left the base in flames in his wake, after learning where the last of American Hydra was hiding. 

When Bucky finally found himself in Cambodia, he was dead on his feet. He had barely any weapons on him and his body hurt everywhere. Barnes’ part of his brain was telling him to deal with Hydra as soon as possible and come back home; the Soldier insisted on taking some time to heal and think strategy as the base was one of the biggest and most challenging. Bucky listened to both, laying low for a while to let his body rest, and making plans were to go and what to do when he’d come back to the States. During the day, he was doing research and training his body for a fight; during the night, he stole what weapon he could and watched the base to make sure everything would go smoothly and according to plan. When the time came, he went to the facility bringing a rain of bullets with him. He wanted to make his presence known, to make them realize their time had come. Hydra was fighting him with all the power they had, but it wasn’t enough; he was the Winter Soldier after all. He took a bullet to his thigh and the fucker who shot him nearly pissed himself after realizing what he had done. Bucky only smiled at him, leaving the guy for last. After killing everyone but the man, Bucky took off his mask and goggles, coming up to him slowly, predatory. The guy cried and begged, shaking from fear. Bucky clicked his tongue at him, running his metal arm softly through the man’s hair, shushing him. Then, he choked the guy to death, dropping his dead body on the floor. Bucky looked around, the realization that he could finally go back to America hitting him hard, and he laughed. He left the building and triggered the bombs, a smile playing on his face. 

Bucky came back home a week later, making sure no one was tracking him first. He knew there wasn’t anyone to follow him, but the Soldier preferred to be safe than sorry and he agreed. Upon arriving back to the States, he checked the news first, wanting to know if Steve was back already. Bucky quickly learned the Avengers needed him for some huge government clusterfuck in DC, so he traveled to Brooklyn with a bounce in his step. Bucky found some dump to rent near the last Hydra base, and spent another week monitoring it, gaining intel, and restoring his weaponry. He made sure he had everything he needed before raiding the base; it was the last of Hydra standing and he’d rather die fighting them than let any of them slip through his fingers. He found out that they were planning a meeting in a week that would include all remaining agents. During that week he trained hard, while also keeping tabs on Steve. Bucky followed the blonde one night and found out where he lived; he filed that information for later, knowing he had to be focused on the mission on hand. When the night came, he was armed to his teeth with guns, knives, bombs and tasers. He put on his mask and goggles, slipping into the night and coming right up the front doors of Hydra. The security was tight and he wanted at least a small element of surprise, so he killed the agents at the front of the base quickly, quietly. Once inside, he made sure all the doors were locked so no one could escape. Only after, he made his presence known by taking off the silencer from his gun and throwing bodies left and right. He kicked down every door he passed, making sure not a single agent was left breathing. Bucky was bleeding before he barreled through the doors to the central room, but his entrance still caused fear and panic. Upon entering, at least ten guns were trained on him, but the bullets bounced off his metal arm. He started throwing knives and shooting his guns, but he still took three bullets. Every one of them made him more furious, but he stayed focused and used the anger to complete the mission. The last three agents turned out to be the toughest. Bucky had to fight them with all the strength he had, and yet they managed to throw him off balance and dislocate his shoulder. He screamed from pain and saw red. Bucky grabbed the first one with his metal arm and threw him at the wall so hard the man’s spine crushed and he died instantly. It made the last two stop in their tracks and that was all Bucky needed. He threw his emptied gun at the second one, hitting him between the eyes and the man sank to the floor. Bucky jumped to him immediately and closed his metal fist around the guy’s throat, choking him to death. The third agent used that moment to slam a chair onto Bucky’s head and he saw stars, collapsing onto the floor next to the body. The man threw himself on him, but Bucky regained his composure quickly and closed his legs around the agent’s waist. He twisted the man, crushing his ribs between his thighs, and snapped his neck with his left arm. Kicking the body away, Bucky laid on the floor, taking deep breaths. He was bleeding badly, his right arm was limp and his head spun from the impact of the chair. Bucky stood up on wobbly legs and looked around. the last of Hydra was laying dead around him. He threw his remaining bombs behind himself as he exited the room and pushed the trigger button as soon as he was out the building. The ground shook from the impact and Bucky had to steady himself against a brick wall in one of the back alleys. He could hear the sirens wailing, so he clenched his teeth and, barely standing upright, walked all the way to Steve’s apartment building. Bucky climbed the stairs, dripping blood all over the floors, and raised his metal fist to knock. When Steve opened, shock and confusion on his face, Bucky just collapsed on the floor, his legs finally giving up. The Soldier’s part of his mind was screaming at him to stay awake as he could still be in danger; Barnes’ part assured him nothing bad could happen as long as he was with Steve. 

Bucky trusted the second part of his brain and closed his eyes, passing out.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of the lock turning makes Bucky tense immediately. His left fist curls as the doors open and heavy footsteps follow. Bucky stays still, waiting. The doors close, the keys clink in a bowl in the entry hallway. The footsteps come nearer and, before Bucky knows it, Steve enters the living room, his shield falling to the ground with a loud bang. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says,his shoulders sagging, sounding worn out and tired. 

Bucky turns around, just in time to see Steve wincing as he flops down on the couch, pulling Cap’s helmet off his head. “Steve…” he starts, not knowing how to finish. Asking if Steve’s alright is pointless—the blonde is obviously in pain, and Bucky knows him too well to expect Steve to admit it. Bucky can’t ask where he’s been, either—all Avengers’ stuff is classified, and he doesn’t want to put Steve in a position where he has to choose between telling Bucky the truth or siding with his team. Bucky chooses to go with the safest option. “Hungry?” 

Steve nods, his eyelids half-closed, and Bucky gets up. He looks over the man in front of him, taking in his disheveled appearance, the dirt on his face and blood stains on his uniform. He decides to deal with that later; first, he needs Steve to have some energy. 

Bucky goes to the kitchen and heats up mac’n’cheese that he made yesterday. Peeling an orange in the meantime, he puts it on a separate plate and brings both to the living room. He sits on the couch, leaving a bit of space between them, and puts the orange on the coffee table, placing mac’n’cheese on Steve’s lap. The blonde looks down, then his eyes travel to the fruit in front of him. Steve’s lips curl when looks at Bucky with so much gratitude in his eyes, the brunet has to look away.

“Thank you,” Steve says quietly, his arm reaching out to squeeze Bucky’s knee. The brunet just shrugs, as Steve takes the plate from him and digs in. He devours the meal, then puts the empty plate on the coffee table and leans back, hissing quietly. 

“What is it?” Bucky asks, biting his lip. 

“Nothing,” Steve dismisses, closing his eyes. 

Bucky sighs. Getting Steve to admit he’s been hurt has always been tough, but in this new century it’s even harder. Bucky can’t help but notice that Steve changed. He’s still the righteous asshole that he was before, unable to steer clear of any fight, but now he’s even more careless, and more stubborn. Steve seems to be convinced that he cannot show any weakness; that everything he does has to be all or nothing. He doesn’t ask for help, he never admits when something takes a toll on him. The way Steve fights is even more risky now, as Steve doesn’t seem to think about the consequences. Every fight is life or death.

“Steve—” 

“I’m fine Buck, really,” Steve assures, cracking one eye open to peer at Bucky. 

“Your suit is literally bloodied!” Bucky’s heartbeat picks up. Steve may fool all the other “friends” he has, but Bucky knows better. He always has. “Steve, we’ve been—”

He doesn’t finish, as the doors to the apartment fly open and someone comes inside. Bucky’s muscles tense, his right hand flying to his waistband for his handgun, his left already clenched. He crouches down on the floor while Steve sits up straight, eyeing his shield that he left near the couch. 

“Hey Cap, you left your phone in the jet, so—” Tony Stark enters the room, still in his iron suit—they’ve just landed after all—then freezes as soon as his eyes land on Bucky. He looks between the brunet and Steve, a look of hurt and confusion on his face. 

“Tony—” Steve starts, raising slowly. He doesn’t get a chance to finish, though, as Stark narrows his eyes at Bucky. “What. Is. He. Doing. Here,” the man hisses through clenched teeth, throwing Steve’s phone in the general direction of the couch. “Do you not know what he’s done?!” 

“It wasn’t him!” Steve raises his palms up, seeing how Tony tenses, his fists clenched and eyes burning a hole through Bucky. 

“So what, you’re just hanging out with all ex Hydra assassins?” Stark asks, his eyes never losing the sight of Bucky. 

“He’s not what you think he is,” Steve states calmly, taking slow, small steps towards the man, and wincing slightly at the pain. 

“As far as I know, he’s fucking Hydra,” Stark spits out, his face twisted with disgust. 

“He was _brainwashed_ , Tony, he didn’t have much of a choice!” 

“I was captured, too, and you don’t see me running around killing people!” Stark tightens his fists, his nostrils flaring. 

“It wasn’t _him_!” Steve’s voice breaks a little, pleading.

“I don’t care. He killed my Mom,” Stark snarls, then raises his palms and blasts Bucky. The brunet manages to dodge it, jumping behind the couch. 

“No!” Steve yells, pushing Tony back with all his strength, then ducks for his shield. He blocks Tony’s next blast with it, screaming for Bucky to get out of there. 

Bucky pays him no mind, and instead stands, straightening up and tensing all his muscles, which makes him looks not only bigger, but also _fucking scary_ , and strides towards Stark, firing bullets as he goes. He shoots at the man’s suit, staying clear of all the points where it could cause Stark actual physical harm. 

Stark raises his hand again, but Steve is quicker; he swirls his shield from where he’s crouching on the ground, hitting Stark’s hand and dismantling the glove. Tony screams, but that doesn’t stop him from raising his other hand and blasting at Bucky. 

As Bucky allowed the Soldier to take the lead now, he raises his metal arm, blocking the blast. Some of the joints between the plates burn, but, by now, Bucky knows how to fix it. He’s close enough to Stark to hit him with his right hand, letting the metal cool for a moment. Tony dodges the first blow, but the second connects right with his jaw. Stark hisses, as he stumbles backwards, and shoots a blast at Bucky’s legs, making him lose his footing. Bucky falls to the ground, but quickly rolls to the side to dodge another hit. By this time, Steve’s on his legs again, having picked up the shield, and he crowds Tony near the wall, taking all the man’s blows and blocking with his shield. They both got a couple of hard hits in, and Bucky can clearly see Steve’s losing his strength and focus. Stark seems to notice, too, as he hits Steve straight in his stomach, then kicks his legs from under him. Steve falls with a loud shout, his shield falling too far for his hand to reach. 

Bucky quickly takes Steve’s place, and decides to not pull any punches. They need to end this, and they need to end this _now_ , before the neighbors call the cops, or, worse, the rest of the Avengers comes down too. 

The Soldier already figured out Tony’s soft spots, and he goes straight for them. As Stark isn’t wearing his helmet, Bucky connects his fist with Tony’s jaw a couple times. When the man in front of him is panting and spitting blood, Bucky closes his metal fist on Stark’s arc reactor, trying to rip it out. The man powers the reactor up and Bucky knows he’s screwed—from this close, his arm won’t survive the blast, but Steve’s still on the ground, so there’s nothing he can do. 

Bucky tries his hardest to rip the device, and just as it starts to get loose, it goes off. Bucky flies back with a shout, his metal arm no longer attached to his body. He hits the wall on the opposite of the room and falls to the ground with a loud bang, the wires going out of the remains of his arm sparkling and burning. Bucky’s panting, his entire body feeling like it’s on fire. The connections of the arm to his brain cause electroshocks and he’s writhing on the ground, his own screams ringing in his ears. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky sees Steve hitting Stark hard, then throwing him on the ground. “He’s my friend!” The blonde shouts, reaching for his shield, his eyes full of rage and fury. 

“So was I,” Tony replies, but Steve just lands on him and hits him square in the jaw. 

Steve, then, raises his shield, his muscles taut. Stark covers his face with his hands, but Steve brings the shield down on the arc reactor with so much strength, the thing shatters and loses power. 

Steve stands up immediately, and goes straight to Bucky, falling to his knees near the brunet. “Bucky! Buck, talk to me please,” he pleads, his voice shaking. 

Bucky looks up at him, but can’t speak, his teeth clenched as to stop the screaming. 

“Please, Bucky, please!” His eyes are filled with worry, as he leans down and takes Bucky’s sticky hair off of his sweaty face. “What do you need me to do?” 

But Bucky stays silent, biting his lip instead. He keeps looking at Steve’s face, though, trying to tone down the spasms. 

“You don’t deserve that shield,” Tony says, as he stands up and kicks it, hurt and betrayal twisting his face. “My father gave it to you!” 

Steve’s jaw clenches, and Bucky can swear there’s steam coming out of his ears. The man looks at Stark, then at the shield. Steve reaches out for it, then hurls it into Tony so hard the man is pushed away, his back landing on the wall. Stark seems to get the clue, and, limping, goes for the doors, huffing and groaning under his breath. 

Steve’s attention is back on Bucky now, as he caresses the man’s face and keeps soothing him, looking for any way to relieve Bucky’s pain. “Your arm. How do I turn it off?” 

_You don’t_ , is the first thing on Bucky’s mind. But, even the Soldier knows his body won’t take this for much longer. So, with his right hand, he taps Steve’s upper arm four times, each one going more to the right. He can just hope Steve will understand. 

The man frowns, but then looks at the remains of Bucky’s left arm. “Fourth plate?” Steve asks, and Bucky nods. 

Steve moves to Bucky’s left, and leans closer, careful not to touch any wire going out of the arm. He notices two small screws, and runs to the kitchen. Steve comes back with a couple of screwdrivers, then checks which one fits best. Once he’s decided on one, he looks at Bucky for confirmation. The brunet nods, so Steve unscrews the first screw. Bucky shuts his eyes tight, but he can’t stop the scream that rips out of his throat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Steve keeps mumbling in a soothing voice, taking the other screw out as quickly as possible. 

When the plate opens, he sees an array of wires, and looks helplessly at Bucky. The wires are all different colors, mixed together and plugged in different places. 

Bucky reaches out with his right arm and taps Steve’s hand twice. “Two wires?” Steve asks, and Bucky nods. “Any order?” Bucky nods again. “Okay. Green?” Bucky shakes his head, as much as he can, anyway. “Yellow? Red? Purple?” At the last one, Bucky taps his hand twice. “Purple is second?” Steve makes sure, and, when Bucky nods again, he goes back to examining other colors. “Blue? Black? Gray?” Bucky taps his hand once. “Okay, gray then purple,” Steve nods back. 

The blonde lets out a breath, then pulls the wires out, in order. Bucky screams one last time, before his body stills and his brain is no longer being fried. 

A broken sob escapes Steve’s throat, as he leans down and puts his head on Bucky’s stomach, the stress of his friend being electrocuted finally leaving him. Bucky takes small breaths, trying to regain any feeling in his body. Everything hurts, and he’s sure he has new wounds on his left shoulder. His mind is hazy, and his eyes go unfocused as he looks at the golden halo laying on his stomach. 

Bucky knows they’re compromised. There is no chance none of the neighbors didn’t hear them fighting and the cops are probably on their way. Not to mention that all of the Avengers probably know he’s back now, and most of them aren’t his greatest fans. On top of that, he’s just lost his greatest weapon and he has no way of repairing the arm himself, not to mention making another one. 

But for now… He’s alive. And, most importantly, _Steve’s alive_. 

__

Bucky’s woken up by a nightmare, his body sweaty and shaking. He opens his eyes and scans the room. He and Steve managed to change and leave the apartment, hiding in one of the abandoned warehouses Bucky’s found before coming back to Steve. He looks out a broken window and realizes it’s late in the afternoon, the sun setting down and painting the sky in red and orange. Bucky tries to prop himself on his elbows, but falls right back, groaning. He’s forgotten that he no longer has a left arm. _Great. Fan-fucking-tastic._ The man groans under his breath and sits up, using his right hand. His left side hurts like a son of a bitch, his skin knitting itself back together. He runs his sweaty palm down his face, then looks around. Steve is still asleep not so far away from him, his even breathing the only sound in the empty space. Bucky looks at him, at his face, so peaceful, without any worries. 

Bucky drags himself up, biting down hard on his lower lip to keep quiet as the pain rips through his body. He goes to stand by the broken window and thinks about everything that’s happened yesterday. The Avengers know now that he’s back. What’s worse, they know what Steve is willing to do for him. And sure, it makes Bucky feel a little bit better to know that Steve still has his back, but tearing them apart is the last thing he wanted. He knew that at some point his reemergence would have to come up, but he’d rather it be _after_ he and Steve talked about… well, everything. They’ve been tip-toeing around so many things ever since Azzano, Bucky’s not sure what’s true and what’s his imagination anymore. Sure, he has his memories back, but how many are actually true? He and Steve never talked about it, never had a heart-to-heart about what they meant to each other then, or what they are now. The very thought of that conversation makes Bucky’s stomach clench. And now, after yesterday, it only got worse.

Now, it’s not only about the two of them, but also about Steve, the rest of the Avengers, and the whole damn world. Because if Steve really gives up his shield, what is he going to say? That his dead best friend from childhood turned out to be not so dead after all, just brainwashed by Hydra and made into the most feared assassin of the last century, and then somehow found his memories and is now his own person? Besides, there are people who want Bucky dead—not just imprisoned, but dead and buried six feet under. 

And Bucky can’t risk that, he can’t have Steve throw away everything he stood for, everything he fought for, just so he could be reunited with Bucky, who’s not even the same man he was back in the day. Hell, he’s not even the same Bucky whom Steve’s saved from Zola’s table. He was turned inside out, his memories taken away from him, made to kill, to torture, to take lives without a blink of an eye. Both Barnes and the Soldier live inside him, and he’s learned how to make peace with that. 

He’s not so sure Steve can handle that, not right now. 

See, the thing is, Steve is just as lost as Bucky was when the whole shitshow of him getting his memories back started. Steve was brought back and immediately jumped into another fight. He’s a soldier, a captain bound to protect and serve his people. Ever since Steve got back, he hasn’t had a chance to come to terms with who he is, who he wants to be in a new century. He threw himself into this whole Avengers bullshit, without taking time to fully process what’s happened to him. Bucky’s had his chance to search himself—Steve never had time for that. He fought one person after another, never having enough time to sit back and think about what he’s lost. And he’s lost plenty—not only Bucky, but also Peggy Carter, his unit, his chance at a normal life. Steve crushed a plane into the ocean to stop Hydra, and woke up only to find out his sacrifice didn’t do anything—Hydra was alive and well, changing the course of the history and infiltrating governments and intelligence agencies all around the world. 

Steve is thought to be a symbol to the nation, a hero to the world, but no one ever stopped to think what the man gave up. And Bucky can’t do that to him. He loves Steve too much to make him quit the only thing that he knows, the one thing that’s driven him all his life. Steve has always been a fighter, always up to protect those in need. Bucky can’t ask him to give that all up for him—a forgotten soldier, a nobody, or the most feared assassin, whichever he is. 

Bucky sinks to the ground as the realization hits him. He takes in a shaky breath, a tremor shaking his body. He can’t drag Steve down with himself. 

Bucky’s a broken man, a forgotten figure, someone who doesn’t quite make it into history books. But Steve? He’s a hero, an icon, a perfect soldier, the Captain. And Bucky’d rather live with a broken heart, than knowing he forced Steve to do something the man didn’t want in the first place. 

 

Steve wakes shortly after Bucky gets himself together. The blonde stirs, groaning, then rubs his eyes and sits up. “Hey, Buck,” he sends a small smile to the brunet, then pops his spine. 

“Steve,” Bucky tries to smile, too, but it falls flat and he knows it. He can’t pretend, not anymore. He knows there’s no putting it for later, they’ve been doing that dance for too long as it is. 

Bucky throws a bottle of water Steve’s way, and the blonde catches it, taking a couple sips. He runs a hand through his hair, then stands up, going to the window Bucky’s next to. “So, what’s the plan, now?” 

“Steve, I—” Bucky starts, but stops shortly, shaking his head. “Sit down?” 

Steve shrugs and sinks down to the floor next to the brunet. He bumps Bucky’s knee, putting his arms on his tights and leaning down. “How’s the arm?” 

Bucky wiggles his left shoulder, the remainings of his metal arm wrapped in a black tee to prevent the wires from getting tangled into his clothes. “Hurts like a sunuvabitch.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve says earnestly, and Bucky can’t look into his eyes without having his heart in his throat. 

“What’re you sorry for? ‘S not your fault.” 

“I don’t know, Buck, I… I just am, okay? I’m sorry.” 

The brunet sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Steve I… We need to talk. I can’t do this anymore.” 

“You can’t do what?” Steve frowns, confused. 

“ _This!_ I can’t do _this_ ,” Bucky motions his hand between the two of them, “anymore, okay?!” He lets out a breath, his hand running through his hair. 

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” Steve looks up at him with those damned blue eyes and Bucky wants to scream, his emotions taking the better of him. 

“What are we doing here, Steve? Seriously, what are we, even? I don’t… You…” the brunet groans, lacking the words to express everything that’s been going through his head since he broke the conditioning. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, frowning at the lack of his left arm. “What am I? To you?” 

Steve blinks, taken aback. “Buck, I—I thought we were… I thought there was something. Between us.” 

“I thought so too. But then there was war, there was Carter and I—look, I don’t blame you for falling for her, alright? She was a damn fine dame, I’ll give you that, but you didn’t even have the guts to tell me that,” Bucky still avoids Steve’s eyes, knowing his emotions are raw on his face. His eyes are unfocused, moving around the room quickly. 

“We just—”

“You don’t have to say just what you did, Steve, I already know. Or did you forget that night in the Alps, before that goddamn train happened?” Bucky stands up abruptly, losing his balance for second, then turning his back to the blonde. He takes a deep breath, to calm himself at least a bit. “I’m not surprised, I’m really not. I just thought… I dunno what. That we meant something, that _I_ meant something.”

“What the hell are you talking about? There was _nothing_ between me and Peggy! Sure, I liked her, I liked her a lot, even, but nothing happened Buck, not until I was getting on that plane,” Steve stands up now, too, taking a step closer to Bucky, then pacing the empty space. “Do you honestly think you don’t matter to me?” He asks, his voice trembling, as he stills and looks at the brunet. 

“I dunno, do I? Or was I just a mean to an end, a fool who’d do anything for you, a—a person who’d always put you back on your feet just so you’d take advantage of them?” Bucky turns, his right fist clenched, his breath ragged.

“You think that little of me?” Steve’s voice breaks, hurt and confusion twisting his face. 

“I don’t know what I think!” Bucky throws his hand up, turning back around and pacing the room. “I think you’re Captain America, a hero, a goddamn American icon. And I’m… I’m no one, Steve. Not Bucky Barnes, definitely not the Winter Soldier. Just another idiot who died for his country and remains forgotten,” he stops, and turns around, looking at the blonde in front of him and scratching his abdomen unconsciously. 

Steve’s face is crumpled with pain, his mouth slightly open, his eyes shining. Bucky hates himself for doing that to the blonde. He hates himself for being the one who hurts Steve so much, especially since he knows Steve loved him, at least at some point in his life. Bucky can’t hold it against Steve that he fell for Carter; any man would do so. He also can’t take his frustrations about not being able to love Steve properly in their times on the blonde. But…but. He’s tired of walking on eggshells, he’s tired of never being enough, he’s tired of all those misunderstandings and concealments. Bucky wants it out in the open, all the truth about what they were, what they _are_ , if anything he’s ever believed in was true. 

Because he really believed Steve loved him. At some point, it was the only thing that kept him alive, the only thing that stopped him from doing something reckless and getting himself killed in the field. He wants to know, he _needs_ to know if any of that was true, or if he went through all this pain—the war, the camp, Hydra, and brainwashing—for nothing. If he fought so hard to live, only to find out that whatever they had was all in his head. 

Bucky knows damn well what his feelings for Steve are, and what he needs to do to keep him safe; Steve’s answer won’t change the decision he’s already made. He just needs to know if he should keep fighting, or just give up, and let Steve live his life. 

“I never forgot you, Buck,” Steve says quietly, looking down at the floor, his shoulders slumped and his hands clasped together in front of him. 

“You never talked about me, either,” Bucky huffs, knowing it’s petty and childish, but unable to stop himself from voicing the exasperation he’s feeling. 

“What was I supposed to say?” Steve raises his voice a little, a frown on his face. “When I woke up, your death was still a fresh memory for me, Buck. I didn’t have time to process it, to—to come to terms with losing you. And talking about it was too painful. Besides, what would I even say? Calling you a friend wouldn’t even cover half of what you were for me. You were my _everything_ , Buck, you still are,” he adds quietly, looking down. “I couldn’t talk about you without lying, and you know damn well I can’t do that.”

“You’ve been doing that pretty damn good so far,” Bucky sulks, his jaw jutted out, as he tries to cross his arms in front of him. When he realizes his mistake he groans, his head tipped back, his right fist tightened. 

“I don’t lie, Buck, you know that—” 

“Cut the bullshit, Steve, our entire life was a lie!” The brunet yells, throwing his arm up, his nostrils flaring. “We never got to live our truth. I was lying pretending I didn’t love you, and you lied on every goddamn enlistment form till you finally got what you wanted,” Bucky makes a vague gesture towards Steve’s body, a pointed look on his face. “You lied to me back then when you didn’t tell me about Carter, and you’re lying to me even now.” 

“You never asked about Peggy!” Steve’s breathing is hard, his face set and his palms curled into tight fists. “I tried to reach you back then, God knows I tried. But you never let me in, you kept avoiding me or ignoring me and I couldn’t—” 

“Oh please,” Bucky shakes his head, lifting his eyebrows and scoffing. “I saw how you looked at her. You gave her this _look_ , the one I got from you only once. Only she got it every goddamn time you saw her.”

“Are you honestly blaming this on Peggy right now? She has _nothing_ to do with it—” 

“She has _everything_ to do with it! I stayed out of the way just so you could be happy with her without me being constantly there.” 

“So you admit you were avoiding me, then?” Steve asks, his voice flat and face blank. 

Bucky swallows down. “I did this for you—” 

“Bullshit!” Steve raises his voice, pointing an accusatory finger at Bucky. “You did this for yourself, so don’t you dare blame it on her now. You cut me out as soon as you realized I wasn’t your charity project anymore.” 

Bucky lets out a hysterical laugh, short and sharp. “Do you even hear yourself?” He shakes his head, frowning. “A charity project? Steve I fucking _died_ so you could be happy—” 

“What?” The blonde freezes on the spot, blinking, his face a mix of hurt, confusion, and sorrow. 

“Fuck it,” Bucky mumbles quietly, then runs a hand through his hair, deciding to bring all the cards to the table. “I—I twisted my hand so the railing would give up. I wanted to fall, Steve. I wanted you to have a life, a happy one, where you could actually _be_ with someone you loved,” Bucky admits quietly, not really able to look the blonde in the eyes. He looks at the left of Steve’s shoulder, his eyebrows drawn together and his palm sweating. 

“So you decided to kill yourself?” Steve voice shakes and breaks, his eyes bright blue from the tears shining in them. 

“Didn’t work, did it?” Bucky asks ironically, making a vain attempt at a smile.

The brunet looks at Steve and the man’s shaking, his expression crumpled with pain. Steve’s shoulders are sagged, his entire posture looking beaten and defeated. Bucky closes the distance between them in a few shorts steps, his right palm flying to Steve’s cheek. 

“Stevie, hey, look at me,” the brunet whispers, seeing as Steve’s eyes are unfocused, his breath ragged. “Rogers, come on,” Bucky strokes the blonde’s cheek, trying to bring him back to the present. 

“You tried to kill yourself,” Steve mumbles, his eyes taking in the man in front of him. 

“I tried to give you a chance at a happy life,” Bucky says quietly, Steve’s breath hot on his cheek.

“There is no happy life without you, Buck,” Steve admits, defeated. 

The brunet exhales through his nose slowly, taking a step back, but still staying within an arm’s reach. “Tell me the truth, then,” Bucky asks, his eyes never leaving Steve’s. 

The blonde juts out his jaw, determined, and swallows. “I loved you. I’m sorry I never said it, but it’s the God’s honest truth,” Steve lets out a breath, deflecting. “For what it’s worth, I… I still do.” 

“You love _him_ , and I’m not the same person anymore, Steve,” Bucky comments quietly, sadly. His voice is barely over a whisper, filled with emotions. 

“You think I don’t know that?” Steve looks up, his jaw set hard, challenging. “I know you’ve changed. _God_ , Buck, you’ve been through so much I know—I know. But I’ve changed too. And I still love you.” 

“You don’t know me, Steve!” Bucky throws his hand up, which makes him lose his balance once more and swear quietly under his breath, then starts pacing again.. 

“You won’t let me in!” The blonde yells, then takes a deep breath to calm himself. “I know you don’t think much of yourself. I know you blame yourself for what you did, even though you had no control over that. I know… I know you still have nightmares, you don’t trust people, you constantly look over your shoulder. But I also know you love watching the sunset. You love walking on the beach and feeling sand between your fingers. You love that stray cat that sleeps in our staircase and you love the feeling of sunshine on your face. And—and no matter what you say, I know you still love me. I see it in your eyes, Buck. You look at me exactly like you did all those years ago. And I love you, too. So why… why won’t you let me?” Steve asks in a small voice, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. 

Bucky stops and looks at the man in front of him. His mouth opens, then closes, his jaw working. “I can’t,” is what finally leaves his mouth, and he runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t let you do that.” 

“Do what exactly?” Steve asks, confused, his eyes hardening.

“Throw away everything you know for me. You’ll end up hating me for it, and I can’t—I couldn’t live with myself.” 

“Bucky, just… Fucking listen to me. _You’re_ everything that matters to me, the rest is nothing—”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky whines, taking a step closer. “I’ve had time to adjust. I’ve had time to figure out this century. But you, you jumped right back into the fight, without taking a minute to actually process what happened. Do you even know what you like? Did you have time to focus on nothing else but yourself? You said it yourself, you didn’t process what happened to you, you didn’t seek any help, didn’t take any time off. You joined the Avengers straight up, and have been fighting ever since.” 

“Yes, I have—”

“No, no you haven’t,” Bucky interrupts, cocking his eyebrow pointedly. “You’ve been Captain America for so long you forgot how to be Steve Rogers again. And that’s who I love. I don’t care about Cap, I care about little Stevie Rogers, the Brooklyn spitfire who didn’t know when to quit. And I love him Steve, God knows I do. But… But I need to know he’s still here,” he points to Steve’s heart, and then places his palm on the blonde’s chest. 

Steve inhales, his eyes glassy. “I’m still the same, Buck,” he murmurs, curling his hand around Bucky’s. 

“Are you, though? Because I haven’t seen you do anything you enjoy in so long I have trouble believing that. When was the last time you drew? Went to a museum? Sat and read a goddamn book or even took a walk?”

“I do this all the time, Buck,” Steve huffs. 

“You do things other people tell you to catch up on! You end up hating half of this stuff, Steve,” Bucky gives him an unimpressed look, his chest heavy with how hard he’s breathing. 

“I do not,” the blonde mumbles, looking down. 

“Stevie,” Bucky breaths, shaking his head. “Before you drop that shield for me, find out what you like. What you enjoy, what brings a smile on your face.”

“You do that,” Steve attempts a smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Punk,” the brunet rolls his eyes, licking his lips. 

“Jerk,” Steve responds immediately. 

“I’m serious, though. Find friends outside the Avengers, just… live for yourself for a while.”

Steve stays quiet for a minute, breathing deeply. He looks at the man in front of him, and squeezes the brunet’s hand that’s still placed over his heart. “Why does it feel like a goodbye, Buck?” He asks in a small voice, his eyes cast down. 

Bucky lets out a quiet breath. His heart breaks, Steve looking at him with such sad eyes, his expression like a kicked puppy. But Bucky knows he has to do it. He has to leave to let Steve breathe and be his own person. Their codependency runs so deep Bucky tried to kill himself so Steve could be happy, and that was even before everything with Hydra. God knows what he’ll be willing to do now, and vice versa. Steve’s already fought one of his teammates, is willing to drop everything he knows. And for what? For some kind of old love, one that never even had a chance to flourish? 

The relationship they have now isn’t safe, isn’t healthy. Bucky had time to find himself, to learn himself again, to take ownership of his mind and his actions. He’s still willing to do whatever it takes to keep Steve safe but it’s different now, somehow. He knows he can’t depend on Steve, can’t expect the blonde to have solutions to all his problems like he did back then. Their bond is strong, dangerously so. And don’t get him wrong, Bucky doesn’t want it to lessen—he needs it to grow, just like they did. He knows now, that in order for them to be truly happy they both need to be their own person first, and belong to each other second. And Bucky feels that way, now, after everything that happened. After he needed to rely on himself, and himself only, to survive. 

But Steve?

He traded one war for another, woke up in the new century and immediately threw himself in another fight. Sure, he does other things, too, but his primary focus is still the Avengers. From the little time they spent together, Bucky realized that Steve lives in a constant war. His shield is always at the ready, his uniform always packed and out the closet in case it’s needed. Bucky can’t blame him for that, though, the world really does need the Avengers. He can, however, point it out. Make Steve realize that there is more to life than unending war, constant fighting for people who often don’t even appreciate his help. Steve’s reckless, he’s always been that way, but the things he does now are straightly suicidal. Jumping out the planes, out the buildings, on grenades. Steve dives head on into any fight he picks up, without thinking about the consequences. And Bucky can’t live like that, not if he wants to keep his sanity intact. He can’t join the Avengers, _he won’t_ , and he can’t just sit at home waiting for Steve to come back with broken bones and bloody nose. It’ll drive him mad. 

So he has to do what’s best for both of them. He has to leave now, or he never will. He’d only grow more bitter, and Steve would blame Bucky for making him feel bad about fighting. Bucky can’t also ask him to drop the mantle of Cap—right now, it’s all Steve has. For them to actually work in this new, fucked up century, Steve needs to find himself. Forget this whole Cap persona and focus on Steve Rogers, the one he seems to have forgotten. 

Call Bucky selfish, he couldn’t care less. He’s had his fair share of pain, of suffering, of confusion and hurt. He wants to _live_ , to enjoy the little things. With no Hydra, there’s no need for the Winter Soldier no more. And yeah, maybe he’ll always look behind his shoulder, but he refuses to join the fight again. 

Bucky knows Steve loved him, and maybe still does. And that is enough for him. He can live without being mentioned by the history books, without being remembered by anyone other than Steve. It’s only Steve that matters. And now that Bucky knows he matters too, he’s ready to put the past behind. He’s ready to start this new chapter of his life, one where he’s neither the Winter Soldier nor James Buchanan Barnes. He’s Bucky, and he’ll enjoy life till it kills him. 

He just has to find a way to tell that to the man in front of him. 

“It’s not,” Bucky promises, though judging by the skeptical look on Steve’s face, he’s not really convincing. “Fuck, Steve, look.... I love you, okay? Always have, always will. But I can’t sit at home doing nothing while you’re out there, fighting fuck knows who. It’s driving me insane. And I won’t let you quit, not for my sake. _You_ have to want this for yourself. You wanna drop that shield, fine. But do it for _you_ , not for me. Or it’ll kill us both.” 

“What do you want me to do, then?” Steve asks, his voice small. He’s visibly hurting and Bucky hates himself for it. 

“ _God_ , Steve, I—” he breaths, closing his eyes, the pain on Steve’s face being to much for Bucky. “What do _you_ want?” 

“I want to be with you! Buck, don’t you understand? I fucking love you!” Steve takes a step back and turns around, dragging his hand through his hair. 

“Do you wanna drop the shield? Leave Cap behind and never look back?” Bucky asks, his voice slightly raised. 

“I—I will, for you,” Steve turns back around, giving Bucky a challenging look. 

“Not for me, Steve. Take me out of the picture for a goddamn second and think about whether you’re really ready to say goodbye to Captain America,” Bucky levels Steve’s eyes, jutting out his jaw. 

They stand like that for a minute, wearing each other out. Finally, Bucky breaks, looking down and scratching his chin. 

“Would you leave the Avengers if I wasn’t here?” The brunet asks, quietly. He knows there’s no point in challenging Steve now, the man never backed down from a challenge. 

Steve takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. “No,” he whispers. 

“Then don’t. Don’t do it for me, I couldn’t live with that. Do it for yourself, whenever you’re ready. And when you do, I’ll be there. I’ll always be there. Till the end of the line, and all that,” Bucky attempts a smile, though he knows it looks as fake as it feels. His eyes are glassy now, too, the realization of what this all actually means downing on him now. 

Bucky was so caught up in thinking about Steve, he never even stopped to think about how this would affect him. Steve was always there, always at the back of his mind. Through their teenage years, through war, through his time under Hydra, through the last two years when he was finally free. Steve was always the only thing that kept him going, the only thing waiting for him at the end of it all. To leave now, without being forced to… it hurts. It makes Bucky’s heart sink deep down, his stomach clenching and his palm sweating. But he has his answer. The one he knew from the very beginning, yet was dreading all the same. There is no turning back now. 

“Why are you doing this?” Steve asks so quietly, his voice so broken, Bucky wouldn’t pick it up if not for the serum running through his veins. 

“Because I love you,” the brunet whispers, taking a step closer. “Because I know you and I know myself. And I know it’s not the end, Stevie.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

“We both died and somehow came back to the living. Nothing can keep us apart, we’ll always come back to each other.” 

Steve shakes his head, a tear falling from his eye. Bucky wipes it with his thumb, then leaves his palm on Steve’s face, cupping his cheek. 

“I fucking love you, Rogers,” Bucky rests his forehead against Steve’s, closing his eyes, the blonde’s breath hot on his cheek. “You’re the one for me, always were. My true north, my polar star, my goddamn sun.” 

“Buck,” Steve breathes and closes the gap between them. It’s slow and sweet, and over way too quickly. 

“Take all the chances you can, Steve. Live, laugh, win wars with fucked up aliens. And when you’re ready… I’ll be there. I’ll always be there,” Bucky murmurs, then places a chaste kiss on the corner of Steve’s lips. 

“Are you giving up on us?” Steve asks, his eyes closed, his voice shaky. 

“Fuck no,” Bucky breathes, shaking his head. “No, I want to give us a chance we never had. I want to _live_ with you, not just be by your side. So I’ll wait. As long as it takes, Stevie, I’ll wait for you,” Bucky promises strongly, his hand curling in the front of the blonde’s shirt. “Just promise you’ll come home to me.” 

“‘Course I will, Buck. Till the end of the line, and all that,” Steve murmurs, a small, heartbroken smile stretching his lips. 

Bucky chuckles quietly, then takes a deep breath. He presses one last kiss to Steve’s cheek and takes a step back, his heart breaking into a million pieces. The brunet turns around, and takes his duffel that’s still on the ground. He puts all his knives and guns on him and gives Steve one last look. The man looks at Bucky with glassy eyes, his mouth twisted and shoulders slumped. 

Bucky bites down on his lip, the overwhelming urge to run to Steve and fall into his arm running through his body. He lets the Soldier take over his actions, turning around and going to the warehouse’s door. 

“Hey, Buck?” Steve says, swallowing down. “You know we could get married now?” 

Bucky lets out a small laugh, a weird feeling in his stomach. “You proposing to me, Rogers?” 

Steve shrugs. “Would you want that?” 

“When you’re ready, Stevie, ask me again. You already know my answer.” 

“I do,” Steve breathes so quietly Bucky barely picks it up. 

Bucky gives Steve one last smile, a sad yet hopeful one, nodding his head. “Yeah.” 

With that, Bucky puts his hand on the doors and leaves.

~

_here is the deepest secret nobody knows_  
_(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud_  
_and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows_  
_higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)_  
_and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart_

_i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)_  
~ e.e. cummings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop a line, please?
> 
> the biggest thank you to my wonderful beta Elie (aka magnificentcookie on tumblr) who helped me so much with this, it couldn't have happened without her (or, as she said "she bossed me around all day and she was constantly awful to me and my story" which, not true, she was honest and I adore her for it) 
> 
> the epilogue will probably happen after a4, but for now thanks for reading


	3. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the only thing I wanna say is: #notmysteve

Bucky comes to with a start. His eyes snap open and he sits upright, blinking, his head spinning. He’s in the living room, so that’s a start. He looks around, dragging his right hand, his only hand, down his face. The room is full of dust and spiderwebs, looking like no one’s been there for a long time. Nothing seems to be missing, the blinds are shut and the doors are locked. The air is musty; the smell reminds him of some old HYDRA bases he stormed back in the day. 

Bucky gets up from the floor, noticing broken glass near the coffee table, and goes to open the windows. He opens all in the living room, then sticks his head out to breathe some fresh air. The street looks deserted, though, it’s not something unusual as he lives in the middle of nowhere. 

What is striking, however, is the view outside. There are cars with broken windows, doors left open. Bikes strewn around in the middle of the street and sidewalk. The house opposite Bucky’s has broken windows, doors left ajar. The air is heavy and hot. It’s quiet, disturbingly so. 

A chill goes down Bucky’s spine. He’s used to the quiet peacefulness of the street; nevertheless, this is unusual. He retreats back into his bungalow, the feeling of dread crawling into his mind. Bucky goes to the coffee table and checks for his gun underneath; it’s still there. He tugs it into the waistband of his sweats and runs a hand through his hair. Something’s not right, but he can’t place what. 

Bucky sits down on the floor, mindful of the broken glass, and thinks. Everything in his tiny home looks exactly the way he left it. But what happened? Why was he on the floor, if the last thing he remembers is sitting down to write in his journal? He quickly looks around and finds said book, opens on a blank page, laying under the couch. Anxiety starts creeping in, but he tries to keep it at bay. 

Did someone attack him? Seems impossible, since he’s not hurt and there’s no sign of struggle. Everything is just as it was, covered with a thick layer of dust.

Did he pass out? Now, that’s possible, only it looks like he’s been out for a really long time. Enhanced as he is, there’s no way he’d feel as normal as he does right now. Well, minus the terrible headache. 

So what happened? Not only to him but looks like the entire town as well? 

Bucky looks around for his phone or laptop. He finds them, but both are dead. He swears under his nose, taking the phone and laptop to his tiny bedroom. He plugs two devices in, then opens the window to get rid of the smell. It’s risky, having windows wide open in both the bedroom and the living room, but he can’t stand the dust. The musty air that reminds him of _before_. 

Before he left. Before he learned to be his own person again. Before he had control over his mind and actions. Before he told Steve he’ll be waiting and it’s been so long, _so goddamn long_. 

He shakes his head, keeping the thoughts at bay. There’s no good in thinking about this right now. There are bigger problems at hand. 

Waiting for the laptop to switch on, Bucky goes to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, then promptly shuts it again, a wave of nausea washing over him. He needs to throw whatever has grown in there away. He opens one of the cabinets and pulls out a glass. After cleaning it from all the dust, he pours himself some water and goes back to his room. His laptop and phone’s screens are glowing, which means that at least electricity is alright. Bucky taps in his password and checks the security measures on his laptop. According to the data, there hasn’t been any breach, no one tried to break in. So what _the fuck_ happened?

Bucky goes to the first news site he can think of and his heart stops. The headlines are… terrifying, at best. 

**“What happened to half the population? A take on the tragedy.”**

**“5 years, 185 days and counting: the world after Thanos.”**

**“The world in mourning.”**

**“What do we do now that they’re gone?”**

**“Lost in the tragedy--a list of those no longer with us.”**

**“Where are the Avengers now?”**

Bucky closes the computer, his breathing erratic. Half the population? 5 years? _What the fuck is going on?_

He opens the laptop again. His heart is beating so loud he can’t hear anything else, but he has to know. He reads the first article, his body shaking. His head is spinning, his chest feels too tight. Is this true? Did they really just vanish into the air? If so, did he? How is he here, right there, right now? 

With trembling fingers, Bucky types what he’s scared of the most. 

_Steve Rogers. ___

He clicks on the first article.

**Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America, breaks the silence.**

_Steve Rogers, the leader of the group known as the Avengers, breaks the silence on the state of the world. A month after half the world’s population went missing under mysterious circumstances, Captain America decided to comment._

_“We lost,” said the leader, in a conference organized by the UN to assess the state of the world. “We couldn’t protect you, your loved ones. In the final battle, we all lost.”_

_Asked about what does that loss mean, Rogers stated simply “look around.”_

_In reality, the loss means half the population vanishing into thin air. World leaders, politicians, celebrities, CEOs, soldiers, regular people, you name it. Half the people disappeared from the face of the Earth._

_“Thanos did what he said he would,” said Rogers. And now, we have to deal with the aftermath._

A broken sob escapes Bucky’s throat. How is this possible? How did it happen? How is he there, since he doesn’t remember any of that? 

__Where is Steve?_ _

__Bucky grabs his phone and frantically types in his passcode. He still has Steve’s number. He doubts Steve will actually pick up since none of the Avengers know Bucky’s digits, but he hopes to God Steve will answer._ _

__He waits, but to no avail. He tries again, but the result is the same. Bucky throws his phone on the bed and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to keep it together. Steve’s alive, that’s for sure. All the articles that pulled up in his search, none of them stated the worst. Which means he lives. _He has to.__ _

__Steve must’ve left his phone somewhere. Does he think Bucky vanished too? He did, he thinks, but he’s here now. He’s alive and breathing. He has to talk to Steve, hear his voice, knowing he’s alright._ _

__Bucky’s phone rings. He throws himself on the bed, reaching for it, and answers immediately without looking at the caller’s ID._ _

__“Barnes?”_ _

__Bucky blinks. He doesn’t recognize that voice. He looks at the ID but the number is restricted. “Yes?”_ _

__“It’s Wilson. We have a situation.”_ _

__Bucky’s heart drops. He felt the blood drain from his face, his head spins. “Is Steve…” he doesn’t finish; he can’t._ _

__“He’s fine. Well, for him.”_ _

__Bucky feels like he can breathe again. He gasps for air, tears coming into his eyes, his heart beating so fast it might stop any second now. “Oh thank god,” he breathes, clutching the phone like his life depended on it._ _

__“Tony’s dead. Nat, too.”_ _

__Bucky takes a sharp breath. He was never close with them, never actually spoke to them either, but he knows how much they mean to Steve. Meant. Fuck._ _

__“Steve’s, well, take a guess. He needs you, Barnes,” Sam’s voice doesn’t leave any place for an argument. Not that Bucky would fight, not really. He can’t imagine what Steve must be feeling, what they all must be feeling._ _

__“Does he know?” It’s the only question, really._ _

__“No. I didn’t wanna raise his hopes up in case the number wasn’t yours anymore. Now that I know it is, the chopper will be on its way soon. The funeral’s tomorrow.”_ _

__“You sure I should come?” Bucky can’t help but ask. He and Tony weren’t on good terms. Hell, he wasn’t on good terms with any of the Avengers. He can be there for Steve, but he’s not sure his coming to the funeral is such a great idea._ _

__“Pepper wants you here. Who do you think sends the chopper? Just. Do it for him, alright?”_ _

__Bucky swallows down. “Thank you, Sam.”_ _

__“I’ll see you, Barnes.”_ _

__*_ _

__“You know, if you want, I can come with you,” Sam says, as he walks with Steve to the portal._ _

__“You’re a good man, Sam,” Steve smiles, his hair slicked back. “This one’s on me, though.”  
Bucky looks up to the sky, huffing. The self-sacrificing idiot is at it again. He’d say something, but they’ve been through it so many times. Steve ‘I gotta do what’s right’ Rogers will never accept any help, no matter how badly he needs it. _ _

__This time seems a bit off, though. All Steve has to do is return the stones. Which, okay, Bucky has no idea how it actually works so it’s not like he’ll jump in time with the man. But, the ways Steve’s been acting since Bucky came… Something’s up. He hasn’t said anything, but Bucky knows him like he knows himself. He knows when Steve sets his mind to something, and that’s what’s happening. Steve has an Idea, capital I, and there’s nothing Bucky can do but watch._ _

__He feels like it’s the 40s all over again._ _

__Steve comes up to him, a smile on his face. Bucky furrows his brows, trying to understand what Steve’s up to._ _

__“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”_ _

__Bucky huffs, forcing a smile. So that’s it._ _

__Steve’s gonna stay in the past. He’s gonna live his perfect little life with Carter._ _

___Oh, God._ _ _

__Bucky could cry right here and there. He knows Steve used this line on purpose. It’s what Bucky told him when he was leaving for the war. When he knew he was never coming back. When he knew, he was leaving Steve behind._ _

__Steve using it now?_ _

__Bucky’s heart breaks._ _

__“How can I?” Bucky shakes his head, trying his damn hardest to keep it together. “You’re taking all the stupid with you,” his voice breaks at the end._ _

__Steve really is taking all the stupid with him. After all they’ve been through, after all the sacrifice, pain, and suffering, Steve decides to take the easy way out. Instead of coming to terms with his life in the present, he decides to go back to the ugly past._ _

__Bucky can’t blame him; not really. Steve’s just lost two of his friends, a part of his family. For him, life would never be the same._ _

__Still, Bucky can't help but feel betrayed. Yet again, he’s being cast aside. Yet again, his love for Steve means nothing in comparison to Carter. Yet again, he has to part with Steve._ _

___We could get married now._ _ _

__Steve goes for a hug. Bucky clasps him on the back, letting his face fall for a split second. He won’t show Steve how much he loves him, not again. He can’t beg; not again._ _

__“I’m gonna miss you, buddy,” he says quietly, feeling his heart in his throat. _I’m gonna miss the life we could’ve had. I’m gonna miss your smile. I’m gonna miss the ways your eyes crinkle when I make you laugh. I’m gonna miss your dry humor and reckless decisions.__ _

__Steve draws his eyebrows but quickly schools his expression back. “It’s gonna be okay, Buck.”_ _

__Bucky forces a smile. Steve steps back and gets into the portal. Banner starts counting and Bucky just stares._ _

__Losing the love of his life again hurts just as much as it did the first time._ _

__Banner starts counting again; Bucky turns back. He can’t watch this. He can’t watch Steve either not showing up at all, or showing back old and wrinkled. He doesn’t know which one would hurt more: Steve deciding to not come back at all, or his coming back after living his entire life without Bucky._ _

___We were supposed to get married._ _ _

__“Where is he?” Sam asks, and Bucky gets his answer._ _

__So Steve doesn’t return at all._ _

__Bucky huffs, his fist clenching in his pocket._ _

__“He should be here,” Banner says, the sounds of the machine beeping making Bucky’s head spin._ _

__“Get him back,” Sam says, a nervous edge to his voice._ _

__“I’m trying.”_ _

__“Get him the hell back!”_ _

__“I’m trying!”_ _

__Bucky shakes his head in disbelief, tears coming to his eyes._ _

__Steve did it._ _

__Bucky closes his eyes, taking a step away from the portal. He shouldn’t have come. He should’ve stayed in his little house in the middle of nowhere where he couldn’t have gotten hurt again. Fuck, maybe he should’ve stayed with HYDRA for all Steve cares. He’d get wiped and forget all about a certain blond with a smile of an angel. He’d forget their promise, _till the end of the line_ , he’d forget all the heartbreak he’s had during the last century. _ _

__A broken sob escapes his throat._ _

__Steve’s gone._ _

__Bucky’s alone again._ _

__The portal beeps._ _

__“I did it!” Bruce yells excited._ _

__“Steve?” Bucky hears Sam ask, uncertain, and oh, god, this hurts so much more._ _

__Bucky keeps his back to the portal. He can’t see it, he _cannot_. He wants to disappear, to run into the woods and never look back. _ _

__“Hi, Sam.”_ _

__“So did something go wrong or did something go right?”_ _

__Bucky’s teeth clench. He takes another step towards the woods. Maybe they won’t notice he’s gone. He’ll run somewhere far away from here, far away from everything that reminds him of Steve._ _

__“After I put the stones back I thought, maybe I’ll try some of that life tony was telling me to get,” Steve says, his voice somehow weak, and Bucky knows he won’t be able to stand it much longer._ _

__He’s happy for Steve, he really is. Steve finally got to live out his perfect little fantasy. He got the health, the girl, the family._ _

__Bucky just wishes Steve’s fantasy included him too._ _

__“So now we’ll have to live in a world without Captain America,” Sam says and Bucky’s shoulders sag._ _

__He hasn’t even thought about Sam. Bucky knows Wilson vanished too. He, too, came back to deal with the permanent loss of Tony and Natasha. And soon, he’ll lose Steve too._ _

__“That reminds me… try it on.”_ _

__A small smile plays on Bucky’s lips. At least Sam’s got what he deserved. The man has been so loyal, so kind, and inherently good, it’s only fitting he become Cap._ _

__“How does it feel?”_ _

__“Like it’s someone else’s.”_ _

__“It’s yours now.”_ _

__“I’ll do my best.”_ _

__“I know you will,” Bucky can hear the smile in Steve’s voice and he takes another step forward, farther from the machine._ _

__He can’t deal with this now. He can’t deal with Steve choosing to live his life without him, after everything they’ve been through._ _

__Bucky’s yet again reminded of their last conversation. Steve said he wasn’t ready to give up the shield yet._ _

__And now, Bucky thinks, it wasn’t about time, no. It was about the person._ _

__After all, he gave it up for Carter._ _

__“Buck?” Steve’s voice is small and quiet, perhaps because Bucky keeps taking small steps away from this goddamn place._ _

__He sighs under his breath, not knowing if Steve’s hearing is still as good as it used to be._ _

__“Yeah?” Bucky says louder, keeping his back to Steve. He’ll be damned if he lets the man see how much he still loves him._ _

__“Where are you going?” Steve asks, and Bucky can hear his footsteps getting closer. They’re light, somehow, lighter than he expected._ _

__“For a walk,” Bucky says shortly, taking another step towards the woods, hoping Steve will take a hint and leave him the fuck alone._ _

__“I’ll join ya,” Steve’s Brooklyn accent slips back and Bucky flinches. He hasn’t heard it in so long it feels like someone smacked him across the head._ _

__Bucky takes the remaining steps towards the woods and leans against a tree. He wants to be done with it as soon as possible so he can wallow in solitude._ _

__He leans his head back and closes his eyes. He hears Steve take the last steps and stand in front of him._ _

__“Buck…” Steve breathes, his voice quiet in the murmur of the woods around them._ _

__“Yeah?” Bucky whispers back, keeping his eyes closed._ _

__He knows what he’s going to see. He knows what awaits in front of him._ _

__“Look at me.”_ _

__Bucky lets out a breath._ _

__He opens his eyes._ _

__His heart surges._ _

__“Steve?” Bucky asks, disbelief in his voice. He blinks a couple of times, his hand reaching for the man in front of him._ _

__Bucky grabs Steve’s arms, clinging for his dear life. His heart is hammering in his chest, his throat feels tight. He blinks again, then shakes his head, trying to focus, to make sure what’s in front of him is true._ _

__Steve is standing there in his all 5’4 glory. He’s shorter than Bucky, his cheekbones are standing out, his hair is getting into his bright blue eyes. He has an oversized shirt on, his collarbones sharper than Bucky could ever remember._ _

__Under his arm, Bucky can feel some more muscles on Steve than he used to have, but the rest is more or less the same. The only difference is that he doesn’t have any glasses on, and seems to be standing somewhat straighter than before the war._ _

__“Steve!” Bucky cries out, enveloping the man in a tight hug._ _

__Bucky’s fist clenches around Steve’s shirt and he burrows his face in the crook of the man’s neck. Steve does the same, his forehead resting on Bucky’s chest. They stay like that, breathing each other in._ _

__Bucky’s first to break the embrace. He leans back, still keeping Steve within his arm, and searches his face._ _

__“What happened?” Bucky’s eyes keep roaming around Steve’s frame, his hands never leaving the other man’s arms._ _

__Steve shrugs. “Time travel.”_ _

__“That doesn’t clear shit, Rogers,” Bucky huffs, question marks written all over his face._ _

__“I dunno exactly. I’m not an expert here,” Steve cocks his eyebrow, a hint of a smile on his face. “But I’m not complaining. I was ready to give up the shield for a while now. Just needed a reason.”_ _

__“You found it?”_ _

__“Standing right in front of me,” Steve looks up at Bucky, his eyes cast by his long eyelashes, and at this moment Bucky swears he could die a happy man._ _

__Instead, he cups Steve’s cheek and all but smashes their mouths together._ _

__It’s hurried, at first. It’s everything they’ve left unspoken between them, all the heartbreak, all the misunderstandings. It’s Bucky vanishing from the face of the Earth for five years. It’s Bucky thinking Steve’s left him to live in the past with Peggy. It’s everything they’ve wanted to say throughout the war but never had a chance._ _

__Then, it’s slow and sweet. It’s them pouring all their love for each other in that kiss. It’s a promise, an exchange of vows, of sorts. It’s a seal that’s not to be broken, not ever._ _

__When they finally part, they’re both breathing heavy. Steve’s arms are still wrapped around Bucky, Bucky’s hand cupping the other man’s face. They rest their foreheads against one another, breathing each other in and slowing their heartbeats._ _

__“I thought you left me,” Bucky whispers, his voice wavering._ _

__He knows he has to admit and own his feelings if they are to work out. He’d been hiding his emotions for so long before, it almost ruined everything they’ve had._ _

__And he won’t do that mistake again. He won’t jeopardize them again. Not after everything they’ve been through._ _

__“You’re the one for me, Buck, I meant it.”_ _

__Bucky swallows down hard. “What about Peggy?”_ _

__Steve doesn’t answer right away. He leans back a bit, looking Bucky in the eyes. “I did go to see her. But we were never meant to be. We’ve had our dance, but I knew the past wasn’t my home anymore. I… I’m home now. Here, with you. I’m home.”_ _

__

__*** 3 years later ***_ _

__

__“Honey, I’m home!” Bucky calls out, closing the door behind himself with his foot, his hand wrapped around groceries._ _

__He gets silence in response._ _

__“Steve?” Bucky calls out again, toeing off his shoes and going to the kitchen to dump the bags._ _

__“In here,” he hears a quiet mumble, only able to pick it up thanks to his enhanced hearing._ _

__Bucky wipes his forehead with his arm, sweaty from carrying the bags and the August heat outside, and leaves the kitchen, rounding the corner and stepping into the living room._ _

__There, next to a floor to ceiling window, sits Steve, comfortable on a couple of pillows on the ground, a sketchbook balancing on his knees. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers and a white oversized tee, his hair a mess on his head, the bangs getting in his eyes. His neck is glistening with sweat, and there are black smudges on his cheek and forehead, probably form the chalk in his hand. His tongue is peeking out from his lips, his eyebrows drawn in concentration._ _

__Bucky smiles to himself, taking a few quick steps to the man on the floor. He leans down and places a kiss on Steve’s shoulder blade, then flops down next to him._ _

__“Whatcha drawing?”_ _

__“Brooklyn Bridge,” Steve responds absentmindedly, his hand never stopping._ _

__Bucky worries his lower lip between his teeth, leaning back on his arm. “You miss it?”_ _

__“What?” Steve asks, his eyes still focused on his work._ _

__“Y’know, Brooklyn. Home.” Bucky says quietly, looking at the man next to him._ _

__It’s been almost three years since they’ve moved. They both decided that leaving the city life would be best for them. Bucky had no intention of becoming an Avenger, and Steve passed on the mantle of Captain America and was ready to live his life as Steve Rogers._ _

__It was hard, leaving New York, but they knew they had to do it if they wanted to live free of the memories of their past. Brooklyn would always be home, but after Thanos and everything that happened, the memories were too painful to try and start a new life there._ _

__They needed a clean break, needed to explore their relationship away from the paparazzi, the remaining Avengers, the feeling of someone watching them all the time._ _

__They are still friends with Sam, who visits them every chance he has; they also keep in touch with all the other Avengers and ex SHIELD agents._ _

__But moving there, to the middle of nowhere in the fly-over zone, was one of the best decisions they made. They have a little house away from the country, surrounded by nature. They have their small community here, people who couldn’t care less about two ex-soldiers who are still struggling with the demons from the past._ _

__It’s not easy. They wake up screaming from nightmares more often than not, and sometimes one of them can’t get out of bed on a really bad day. But they’ve learned to deal with the pain of the past and look forward into the future._ _

__Steve’s a full-on artist now, his paintings and sketches hanging around the house. The people from the village pay him good money for paintings or decorating their houses and places of business. He’s also teaching art at the community center, to both kids and adults alike._ _

__Bucky’s made a living for himself too. He’s employed at a garage, fixing people’s bikes and cars. He makes do with having just one arm, thanks to the serum running through his veins. Sometimes he also runs errands for the elderly, often helping vets in need._ _

__They also have a cat, now. Steve’s free of all his allergies and health problems, the serum curing him permanently, so they got a white rescue from the shelter. Little Alpine was scared of them, at first, but now she’s a part of the family. She often curls in one of their laps, purring loudly and craving attention. They’re thinking about adopting another one soon, Al being old enough now._ _

__All in all, their life is good now. This doesn’t stop them from missing their home, though._ _

__“Nah,” Steve shrugs, then puts the chalk and sketchbook down. “Not as much as at first, anyway,” he looks at Bucky, then lies down on the pillows. “I’m home wherever, Buck. Gotta be with you, ‘s all,” he smiles the cheesiest smile, linking his left hand with Bucky’s right._ _

__“You’re a sap, you know that?” Bucky shakes his head but smiles nonetheless._ _

__“I’ve been told, yeah,” Steve grins, the light from the window making his hair look like an angelic halo._ _

__“Punk,” Bucky chuckles, looking at the shadow Steve’s eyelashes cast on his cheeks._ _

__“Jerk,” Steve breathes, bringing their joined hands to his lips and kissing Bucky’s knuckles._ _

__His thumb starts rubbing Bucky’s wedding ring, and he smiles, looking up._ _

__Bucky turns their hands, looking at the rings, and grinds like an idiot._ _

__Till the end of the line, indeed._ _


End file.
